


Tales of a Security Chief, Vol II

by bookdragon01



Series: Security Chief's Logs [5]
Category: Star Trek: 2009
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-29
Updated: 2010-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 35,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookdragon01/pseuds/bookdragon01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Volume II: continuing stories of Security Chief Cmdr. Sam Giotto, a 50-something on a ship filled with 20-somethings (his captain included). This is a series of largely unrelated shorts about his experiences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Organizing Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek (I'd be writing this from a lovely villa in Aruba if I did), but this version of Sam and my other OCs are mine.

Title: **Tales of a Security Chief, Vol. II**

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

 **Organizing Shore Leave**

 _Because sometimes even Captains need people to steer them in the right direction  
_

* * *

Cmdr. Sam Giotto stood at the beam down site with his PADD, carefully checking off shore leave groups and giving last minute reminders to stay together and be careful. He couldn't guarantee that they'd followed those instructions after they disappeared from view, but he had to try. Technically, Beugasi was a safe and friendly Federation world and earth-loving Klalais billed itself as the 'New York City of Beugasi' (Giotto had visited his cousins in NYC on a number of occasions and as much as he enjoyed the city, it could only be said to be safe if you kept your wits about you and stayed out of the wrong areas after dark). While this lopsidedly young crew acquitted themselves well in actual crises, they had yet to learn caution on leaves and if he read their mood right, they were likely to drop their guards and let loose here. Given that their last mission could most charitably be described as 'profoundly strange', he couldn't entirely blame them; the crew badly needed leave. However, while this was a Federation world, too much letting loose could still land them in serious trouble. At least most of his own department seemed to have learned to behave themselves (or had at least absorbed the lesson of what he could and _would_ do to them if they didn't), and he had already sent his second and third in command along with two groups of the slow-learners. He planned to finish logging this shift of leave takers and accompany the last group down to make sure they didn't repeat _their_ last wild excursion.

He watched as the second-to-last group materialized before him. This group included the young Captain, the Doctor, and four people from his own department. Dr. McCoy looked fairly happy for once, but then Sam had arranged the leave roster to give him four officers capable of helping him keep the Captain out of trouble. Despite the presence of four young and reasonably attractive females in his group, the Captain did not look anywhere near as happy. Of course, since those women were largely off-limits for him, but likely to interfere with pursuit of his usual shore leave excesses, his discontent was probably a little justified. Giotto schooled his features to careful ignorance as the Captain came over with the clear intent of having a word with him.

"Mr. Giotto, is there some reason for the make-up of my group?" Kirk was nothing if not direct.

Giotto raised his eyebrows innocently. "You usually prefer to have Dr. McCoy accompany you, sir."

"I mean the four security officers." Kirk frowned. "Look, I know I've run into some trouble on other leaves, but it's like you're assuming I'm going to get into a fight."

Although Giotto was certainly not going to say so, especially in front of junior officers, there was a good deal of precedent for that assumption. Moreover, Kirk was dressed for leave in civvies, including a t-shirt which read in Standard: _Here, hold my beer while I kiss your girlfriend_. Giotto allowed his gaze to pause a beat on the t-shirt before raising an eyebrow.

Kirk held his hands up. "Hey, this was gag gift from an old friend! It's not like I'd ever say anything like that."

A little way behind him, Giotto could see McCoy roll his eyes and mouth 'yeah, right'. The Doctor caused his own sort of trouble; Sam only narrowly managed to maintain a straight face. "I never imagined that you would, sir. You know the weight I place on the First Rule. If I expected you to get into a fight, I would have assigned my largest and most imposing officers to act as deterrent."

The Captain considered that, looking somewhat mollified. After a lifetime in Security, Giotto had learned how to skirt the truth with amazing sincerity. He dropped his voice slightly. "These four were assigned to your group at their request."

Now Kirk's eyebrows rose inquiringly. "Oh?"

"As I understand it, sir, the Doctor described what he'd heard of the famous Dancing Gardens in the city's central park and his intention to enjoy them. As a result, all four requested that they accompany his party."

"Wait," Kirk said with an appalled expression. "Are you telling me that I'm basically tagging along with Bones and _his_ _four_ dates?"

"No, of course not, sir." Sam carefully ignored the huge grin on McCoy's face. And the way Jessy punched him in the arm. Although they had so far kept the relationship so discrete that even Kirk didn't seem to be aware of it, the Doctor had one date, who happened to have three girlfriends and they all happened to have top ratings in hand-to-hand. The fact that two of the three girlfriends were also a couple and the third was engaged to someone on the _Aldrin_ would leave Kirk little room to charm his way out of surveillance. It was a remarkably neat conspiracy and the fact that Hanlan had put it together almost entirely on her own confirmed his intention to groom her to step into position as his Second once Jenkins and Groesner were promoted to run the security division on another ship.

"I guess none of them are likely to be my date either," Kirk said wistfully.

"No, sir," Sam replied, not without sympathy. The responsibilities of command placed certain limits on the opportunities for more than strictly friendly relationships with shipmates. As a Department head, Giotto was technically less limited than the Captain, but as Security Chief he had to be even more circumspect (of course, given that nearly all the unattached members of this crew were at least half his age, limits based on command structure were pretty much theoretical). However he'd had years to adapt and learn how to handle the situation, whereas at Kirk's age he'd been a lieutenant with a broad sense of freedom and limited actual sense – which was precisely what worried him about most of this young crew and the Captain in particular.

"Hey, Jim, ya'll coming or not?" McCoy bounced on his toes clearly looking forward to the prospect of actually getting to relax and enjoy a peaceful leave for a change. Sam couldn't help feeling just a little envious.

Kirk sighed. "I don't suppose I could hang back and join your group Sam?"

Gah. Giotto barely kept the reaction off his face. "I don't think that would be advisable, sir." Bad enough he was spending his leave riding herd on a bunch of rowdies. The last thing he needed was adding Kirk to _that_ group. The least appalling consequence that sprang to mind was that they'd all try to earn matching t-shirts.

"You should go with the Doctor, Captain. You might enjoy it more than you think. Lt. Boyd is trained in ballet and as I understand it, Lt. Silvanus and Lt. Alvarez are exceptionally good dancers – they've both won a few amateur competitions."

"Really?" A faint grin crossed the Captain's face. At a minimum, showing off with good partners was a proven method for catching the interest of others.

Giotto nodded, seeing no reason to mention that Carrie and Julia had won those competitions as a pair. If he knew them (and he knew his people better than most of them suspected), they probably had a contest going as to which one could get the Captain to perform the flashiest tango. Sara intended to cajole Kirk into trying a pirouette and if she succeeded he sincerely hoped that Jessy remembered to take video.

"Well, maybe I'll hang out with them for awhile," Kirk allowed.

Sam smiled approvingly. "It's good for morale for the Captain to spend a little off-duty time with junior officers, sir, and you may find that leave spent with good company in a relaxed setting can be quite satisfying."

Or at least that's what they all hoped. Although Giotto wasn't supposed to know about it, to insure success the four conspirators planned to identify and steer Kirk toward a woman who wouldn't land him in trouble for a change. There were bets going all through the department as to whether they could actually do it. In Sam's opinion, they had their work cut out for them, especially if they didn't persuade him to change shirts first.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During my own shore leave and I saw that t-shirt on the boardwalk I immediately knew that Jim had one just like it. Two things happened: I saw Jim wearing it for shore leave and Sam resisting the urge to face-palm when he saw it. They both followed me around until I agreed to write about it.


	2. Organizing Shore Leave

Planning Surprises

 _Because all warfare is based on deception, but it sometimes works for friends too_

* * *

Giotto sat in the lounge, catching up on reports while nursing strong coffee and a strained shoulder. He'd had worse and it wasn't worth bothering sickbay about, but he had still taken a certain satisfaction in rousting the ensigns responsible from their beds at 0400 to scrub and polish the security office floors with miniature nozzle brushes. Because he was the sort of kindhearted person who wasn't going to bring them up on charges of insubordination for drunken idiocy, he'd even left some nice loud music playing for them while they worked. Sam hummed quietly to himself, imagining the taming effects Denise's suggested mix of clash/metal might have on that group of extremely hungover party-animals. It should be a long time before he had to use main force to drag any of them – let alone all six of them – out of a nightclub again.

"Skipping the gym this morning, Sam?" McCoy dropped into the chair beside him.

He was on friendly terms with the doctor, but knew that wouldn't save him if the man found out he had neglected to report even a minor injury. Giotto lifted his PADD and sighed. "Late night, early morning, and a lot work to catch up on."

"Yeah, I heard you already got a bit of a workout last night. It's always the ones you're not keeping eye on, isn't it?" McCoy shook his head. "You know someday you really ought to take a shore leave that involves some actual R&R."

"Don't worry about me, Doc." Giotto sipped his coffee and glanced up at the chronometer. In about ten minutes Jenkins was going to pop into his office and 'accidentally' spill a cup of OJ all over the floor. "I find my own ways of unwinding."

McCoy looked at him suspiciously. "You know, I'd been looking forward to telling those boys to just suffer when they all dragged in begging for a hangover cure, but not one has shown yet." He raised an eyebrow at Sam. "They are still alive, right?"

"Oh yes," Giotto grinned. "Although they probably wish that they weren't right about now. How did you fare with the Captain last night?"

McCoy beamed. "One of the best evenings out I've ever had with Jim and he waltzed in this morning with nothing worse than a hickey. There's only one problem," he said, lowering his voice. "I think we may have created a monster."

Giotto raised his eyebrows. If Jessy's plan to keep Kirk out of trouble on leave had actually worked, the worst consequence he could imagine was the Captain ordering mandatory dance parties (It wasn't a particularly appealing prospect, but certainly better than some of his other ideas for boosting morale).

"I'm talking about that coven over there." McCoy nodded toward where four red-clad women sat whispering together. "They're so pleased with themselves after last night that they're already holed up plotting their next caper."

Sam didn't see any particular problem with that, although he could imagine why the doctor might. "What's the matter, Doc? Feeling neglected?"

"I've got no cause to complain and Jessy hanging out with them just confuses the trail." McCoy grinned mischievously. "I haven't had this much fun sneakin' around since I was teenager and it's about time I got to drive Jim crazy over who I'm seeing. The best part is that her CO's been duly informed." He winked at Sam. "So there's not a thing Jim can complain about it if he ever does work it out."

Giotto laughed to himself. He was sure that once the Captain did figure it out there would be some sort of payback, but if confronted, he planned to plead the privacy concerns that were both the bane and the prerogative of people who ran security divisions. "Okay, Doc, if that's not the problem, what is?"

"It's not really a problem for me, Sam." McCoy glanced over casually. "But I notice you've got a birthday coming up and I get the feeling you're not the type who really enjoys surprise parties."

"That would be a reasonable assessment," he agreed.

McCoy tipped a nod as he stood to go. "Just thought I'd give you fair warning."

"Thanks." Giotto watched the doctor leave and sipped his coffee, surveying his conspiring subordinates over the cup's rim. It was true that he had a birthday coming up, but he trusted that if any of them were aware of it, they were also aware that he was past the age of wanting to celebrate getting older. However, there was also a family-oriented holiday soon after and they were due back on earth in time to enjoy it. It seemed that ever since their divorce McCoy's ex-wife had found some way to keep him from spending any of this time with his daughter. Sam had a feeling that was about to change. One bitter custodial ex-wife was unlikely to prove any match at all for four devious and determined security officers, but that was one surprise he wasn't going to ruin for his friend for anything.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have to figure that being in security isn't all about combat skills. The job has to also attract people with a certain facility for covert operations.


	3. Watching a Plan in Action

_Because it's a beautiful thing, seeing a plan come together_

 _  
_

* * *

Giotto stood among the waiting crowd in the shuttleport visitors center. He had another 20 minutes before his connecting shuttle departed and he was prepared to take a later one if necessary. His brother would rib him about it, but he'd understand.

Among the crewmembers disembarking from the latest shuttle were Dr. McCoy and four security officers. Those officers had given Sam a moment or two of worry over their planning sessions - enough that he'd made himself scarce the day of his birthday - but right now he was just waiting to witness the results. It was always gratifying to see his people taking initiative and they'd worked through this challenge almost completely on their own.

Almost as soon as the group entered the center from the landing area a little girl pulled from her mother's grasp and dashed toward McCoy with her arms wide. "Daddy!"

"Joanna!" McCoy fell to his knees, shocked delight spilling over his features. He embraced his little girl with an unbridled joy that Giotto had never witnessed before from the gruff and frequently surly physician. Sam tipped a small salute to the four grinning women in security red who flanked the happy scene. Mission accomplished.

A far less happy looking woman walked stiffly over and surveyed the female officers. "Which one is she, Leonard?"

Before McCoy could answer, Lt. Boyd stepped forward smartly. "It's all four of us, ma'am."

The look of shock on the ex-Mrs. McCoy's face was priceless, second only to the puzzlement on the doctor's own face.

'You told the court that Dr. McCoy was always being pulled away on medical emergencies so you couldn't leave Joanna with him because there was no one to watch her." Lt. Silvanus smiled smugly. "Well, you can rest easy. There are four of us to take over."

McCoy beamed up at them and then at his ex. "They're all fine ladies, Jocelyn."

"I'll bet," Jocelyn said dryly. "And just where are all of you going to be staying?" Her tone implied that if the answer involved a hotel room, she'd be on the comm with her lawyer instantly.

"My cousin runs a resort with vacation cabins," Boyd explained. "He's going to let us have the largest one. It's big - six bedrooms."

"How generous of him," Jocelyn said flatly. She looked disappointed. It would be difficult for her to challenge the propriety of that.

"Yes, but it's good business too," Boyd added brightly. "The Captain promised to drop by for an evening and Joey figures he can charge more for a cabin used by James T. Kirk - The Hero who Saved Earth."

Jocelyn sucked her cheeks in. "And why are all of you are giving up time with your families to babysit for Leonard?"

"I'm not. My parents live nearby," Boyd said. "Carrie, Julia and Jessy are from off-world, so this way they have a family to celebrate with. My cousin has three kids, so Joanna will have other children to play with too."

"I see." Jocelyn frowned, eying Boyd, who was young, attractive and wore a rather nice engagement ring. "Can I ask what your relationship is with Leonard?"

"He caught the first symptom's of Mnemeken's syndrome and cured me, ma'am." Giotto noted that Jocelyn winced a bit at "ma'am". McCoy's four babysitters were easily a decade younger then her.

"He put my leg back together after I was caught in a rock slide," Silvanus added.

Alvarez smiled. "He patched up my best friend."

"He helped the Captain rescue me when I was captured and beaten senseless." Jessy looked fondly down at the doctor. "He probably saved my life."

"Daddy," Joanna exclaimed. "You're a hero!"

"I was just doin' my job, sweetpea." The doctor's drawl had become a bit more pronounced as he tried to hold his emotions in check.

"He's being modest," Jessy bent down, looking in little girl's eyes. "Your daddy is hero and don't you let anyone tell you otherwise."

The ex-Mrs. McCoy was not impressed. "And just which of you, may I ask, will be tearing herself away from worshipping the hero here to look after my daughter?"

"Don't worry." Alvarez stepped forward with a hard look. "All of us will guard _his_ daughter with our lives."

"Well, you seem to have quite the committed little fan club here, Leonard," Jocelyn said sourly.

"What I have," McCoy replied, standing and lifting Joanna in his arms. "Is the best friends a man could ever ask for. Now you go on home to Dick. I know you wouldn't want him to start feelin' neglected. I'll call when we're ready to drop Jo off." The doctor beamed triumph at his ex, who looked darts at him and what she no doubt imagined to be his shipboard harem.

"You have my comm code, honey," she told her daughter. "You just call if there's any trouble."

"I'll be fine, Mommy - it'll be like having four mommies."

Jocelyn nodded curtly before walking away muttering, "It had better not be." as McCoy and Joanna were enveloped in a group hug.

Giotto turned away, containing his own smile. He loved seeing a plan come together and this time was better than most. In fact, he was so focused on enjoying it that he almost ran right into the Captain, who was grinning ear-to-ear.

"I don't suppose there's any way to write commendations for something like that, Chief?"

"Not that I'm aware of, sir, although I think first pick of assignments for the next month or two might be in order."

"So ordered. Just out of curiosity," the Captain said casually, falling in beside him as they walked. "Which one of them is Bones actually dating?"

Giotto assumed his best poker face. "What makes you think he's dating any of them?"

"Pike warned me," Kirk sighed. "You wouldn't tell me even if you knew, would you?"

"Personal privacy is important in a fishbowl like a starship, sir."

Kirk narrowed his eyes. "But you know, don't you?"

Giotto gave him an enigmatic smile. "Observation, awareness and deduction are important skills for a commander to cultivate."

"Yes, Master Yoda," Kirk rolled his eyes and laughed. It seemed that the Captain also heard the jokes comparing him to Yoda. Sam didn't especially mind, although he still wasn't sure if they were inspired more by his mentoring style or his age.

"I'll see you in a few days, Captain." Giotto grinned as he turned into his terminal. "May the Force be with you."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _AN: Written because_   
> _  
> **ReferenceGoddess**   
> _   
> _asked pretty please with caramel, whipped cream and nuts on top._


	4. A Piece of the Action

_Because history doesn't repeat itself, but it does often rhyme_

 _  
_

* * *

Cmdr. Giotto stood stoically, trying to look quietly menacing rather than as foolish as he felt dressed in a 1920s-era pinstripe suit. The _Enterprise_ had been called to investigate the cultural contamination produced on Sigma Iota II by the freighter _Horizon_ , which went missing nearly a century ago. The landing party (including the Captain, despite regulations, as usual) had found a society that had completely recreated itself to conform to a book entitled _Chicago Mobs of the Twenties_ and the Captain had decided that not only was this society beyond the strictures of the Prime Directive, but that it was the _Enterprise_ 's responsibility as representatives of the Federation to try to set things straight. Events had gone predictably downhill from there.

Now Sam stood with one other security officer (a mountain of lieutenant who was ironically known among the crew as Cupcake) while his Captain swaggered around a gangster boss's office trying to beat the man at his own game.

"Dis here is Cupcake, but he ain't no softy see," Kirk explained in perhaps the most overblown attempt at a gangster accent Giotto had ever heard. "And _dis_ is my chief enforcer, Mr. _Giotto_ \- Sicilian, capice, so youse don't wanna mess wit' him."

Sam carefully restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Somewhere his Italian ancestors were spinning in their graves. However, given that the landing party had been captured three times in succession by two different bosses, he understood why the Captain wanted some 'muscle' of his own, so Sam concentrated on looking dangerous rather than appalled. It wasn't difficult - he was imagining what he'd do to the first person he caught referring to him as 'Don Giotto'.

"Now listen up," Kirk continued. "I'm getting tired of playing pattycake wit' you penny-ante operators."

"Who you calling a penny-ante operator?" Oxmyx, the biggest boss on the planet, jumped out of his seat in rage. Cupcake cracked a knuckle and Sam took a step forward reaching purposefully inside his jacket. Oxmyx froze.

" _You're_ a penny-ante operator." Kirk grinned. "Now sit down. All right, Spocko, cover him."

'Spocko' showed admirable Vulcan restraint in not cracking so much as tiny grimace and swung an ancient style machine gun to point at Oxmyx's head.

"Now listen, sweetheart. Da Federation's moving in, taking over. You play ball, we'll cut you in. You don't, you're out. _All da way out_ ," Kirk expounded with a dramatic flourish. "Ya know what I mean?

"Yeah, sure," Oxmyx replied, holding his hands up. "Why didn't you say so in the first place? All you had to do was explain it to me."

"Okay, den, we got Krako already." Kirk indicated the second biggest boss, held at gunpoint by McCoy. "Now, get on da blower and call da other bosses."

"I sure don't get what you think you're doing," Oxmyx said.

"Get wit' it. _I'm_ giving da orders here." Kirk pointed both thumbs toward himself for emphasis.

Oxmyx dialed. "Hello, Tepo, guess who?"

Kirk flipped his communicator open. "Scotty," he whispered. "Lock in on the other end of the phone line and transport here."

"Yeah, you bet your life I've got a lot of nerve," Oxmyx said into the phone. "What are you going to do about it?"

A figure materialized in the room, still holding part of phone. "Coming over with my boys and we…" He looked around, his whereabouts slowly dawning. "Mother," he squeaked.

"Hey, Captain, that ain't bad." Oxmyx grinned, half-rising again.

"I would advise youse ta keep dialing," Spock said in a flawless imitation of Kirk's pastiche while training the gun on Oxmyx.

Cupcake made a strangled sound and Giotto shot him a glare. It was an effort to keep his own face straight, but laughing right now would be completely out of character. As the room filled with the other bosses, he and Cupcake needed to look threatening enough to keep them from getting any ideas.

After the last one arrived, Kirk leaped theatrically onto the pool table and strutted to the center. Sam had a brief moment of horror as the Captain spread his arms, looking like he was about to burst out singing _We've Got Trouble Right Here in River City_. Kirk raised his hands for silence instead.

"All right! All right! All right! Now da Federation's taking over whether youse like it or not. You people, you've been running dis planet like some kinda piecework factory. From now on, it's gonna be under one roof. You're gonna run it like a business. That means you're gonna make a profit."

"And what's your percentage?" Tepo called out.

"I'm cutting da Federation in for, say, forty percent." Kirk stared down at him. "Ya got any objections?"

Surprisingly, Tepo stared back. "Yeah! I hear a lot of talk, but all I see here is you and a couple of your boys. I don't see no Federation."

There mutters of agreement in crowd. That wasn't good. Giotto briefly prayed that his great-grandparents would forgive him for what he was about to do. He nodded a signal to Cupcake, who pulled Tepo around and lifted him by the throat. Sam calmly drew a switchblade from his inside pocket and held the point to the man at eye level. " _We're_ all the Federation you're ever going to _want_ to see. Capice?"

Tepo made a gargling sound but managed to convey assent. Cupcake planted him back on the ground.

Kirk flashed a grin at the rest of the room. "Any _other_ objections?"

There was an uncomfortable silence as bosses looked at each other, hoping someone else would speak up.

"Good." Kirk clapped his hands. "Then –"

Gunfire erupted from outside.

"Hey, it's my boys!" Krako yelled. "They're making a hit at this place."

As people rushed to the window, Krako made a grab from McCoy's gun. Cupcake dove at the pair, tackling them both before Krako could wrest the gun away. Spock was struggling against two other bosses who were trying to take his weapon. Giotto pulled the loose gun from Krako and McCoy and fired into the ceiling. That seemed to get everybody's attention.

"Captain, I think it might time for that little demonstration."

"Right you are, Mr. Giotto." Kirk opened his communicator. "Scotty, _sweetheart_ , put the ship's phasers on stun. Fire a burst in a one-block radius around these co-ordinates."

"Right away, uh, sweethairt, er, sir. Scott out."

The hum and light of phasers filled the street below, dropping everyone in sight. Another uncomfortable silence engulfed the bosses.

"Gee, that's some trick." Tepo finally managed.

"They're not dead," Kirk assured them. "Just knocked out for a bit - but they might just as well have been dead if we wanted them that way."

"Okay, okay, Kirk, so we get the message." Oxmyx held up his hands. "This syndicate deal you was talking about makes sense to me. I'm a peaceful man at heart. I'm sick and tired of all these hits. I hit Krako, Krako hits Tepo, Tepo hits me. There's too many bosses. I was thinking if there was just one, maybe somebody like you, as the top boss, then we can get things done."

"Hey, Bela, no, no," Kirk said smoothly. "The Federation can't get connected wit' a small-time operation like dis. No, I was thinking, Bela, you would be the top boss. Krako, you'd be his lieutenant. The rest of youse, I don't want no trouble from the rest of youse because you'll have to answer to da Federation. We'll be back every year to collect our cut."

"It's reasonable. It sounds reasonable." Oxmyx looked around. "That sound reasonable to you?"

There were general murmurs of assent.

"Excellent." Kirk dropped into Oxmyx's chair and propped his feet up on the desk, draping an arm around the pretty flapper who immediately gravitated to his side. "Spocko, break out the booze. We're going to drink to the syndicate!"

McCoy dusted himself off and joined Giotto near the back wall. "God help us, Sam. After pulling this off, Jim is going to be completely _impossible_ for at least month."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was rewatching the TOS episode A Piece of the Action _and couldn't help picturing Sam in a pinstripe suit. A plot bunny was instantly born._


	5. Redshirts and Jedi

_Because some things are only different in your mind._

* * *

"Hey, Warren."

Lt. Grossman startled as Kirk dropped into the seat across from him in the mess hall. It wasn't that he was surprised to have the Captain join him for lunch. Despite a rocky start (i.e., beating the crap out of each other) and some initial less-than-friendly competition at the Academy, they had developed a grudging mutual respect that had turned into a sort of friendship after the Narada. No, what surprised him was being called 'Warren' instead of 'Cupcake'.

"Hey, Captain. What's up?"

Kirk rolled his eyes. "When we're off duty, it's Jim."

Grossman smiled knowingly. "When we're off duty, you don't call me Warren."

"I thought you didn't like 'Cupcake'."

"It's grown on me." Grossman shrugged. Truthfully, he'd hated it, but that was before it had earned him points with Cmdr. Giotto. His CO seemed to take a special interest in disabusing anyone in security of having a tough guy self-image. Answering to a nickname like Cupcake had put him in the category of guys who didn't need to be taken down a notch for their own good.

"Really? Huh." Kirk flashed a grin. "I guess with your sim scores, you can afford a cream puff name."

Warren grinned back. That's what this was about. Somehow Giotto and McCoy had teamed up and coerced the Captain into working through the same training simulations everyone in security had to take. Kirk could more than hold his own in a fight, but the 'avoiding a fight' sims (Giotto's specialty) were proving more of a challenge. "Sorry, I'm afraid I can't help you with your scores. Anyone can watch anyone else go through the sims to catch ideas, but the Chief always adds little twists tailored for each taker."

"Yeah, I kind of noticed that." Jim's mouth went a little sideways. "How does he do it? Find everyone's weak spots I mean."

God alone knew. Service records only told so much about you and theoretically only the doctor ever saw psych evals unless there was clear need to know. As far as anyone in the department had worked out (and like rookies everywhere they'd sat up nights analyzing and debating how to impress/out-smart their CO), Giotto just used the Force. Grossman chuckled.

"What's so funny Cupcake?"

It was irresistible. "Security Chief is he. Won this job in a raffle he did, think you? Master Yoda knows."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "What is it with you guys in security and the whole Jedi thing?"

Warren leaned in conspiratorially. "If I tell you, will you requisition light sabers for us?"

"If there were such things as light sabers, I'd own a collection second only to Sulu's!" Jim laughed and then broke into one of his manic grins. Warren could almost see a light go on over his head. "I wonder if Scotty's ever tried to make something like that…"

Probably not if he had any sense; an image of Dr. McCoy's reaction the first time anyone came in with one of the inevitable injuries from testing one flashed through Warren's head. Security had a healthy respect for their CO's reaction to unnecessary injuries. They had a well-earned fear when it came to the doctor's. Grossman shuddered realizing that he had just planted the idea in the Captain's head, which meant that any retribution would include him too.

"If it could be done, I'm sure Scotty would have done it already," Warren said quickly. He hoped a bottle of decent scotch would be enough to bribe the engineer to support that claim. "Look, if I tell you, will you promise not to tell the Chief?"

"Absolutely," Kirk drew a small cross over his heart.

"Okay, you know how Giotto is always telling us that observing and understanding your opponent is half the battle? Well after what he did to the last guy who tried to hack his database, we sort of figured good old-fashioned surveillance might be a better idea as far as trying to get into his head and figure out how to beat those sims."

Jim grinned. "So you spied on him?"

"Please," Grossman feigned a pained look. "'Spied' has such ugly connotations. We carefully observed a more experienced officer in order to understand his approach to operational procedures."

"Right," Kirk snorted. "And I hacked the Kobayashi Maru because I was so interested in Spock's programming style. So what did you learn?"

"Well, you know how he and Marshall are sort of close?"

The captain's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

Crap. He should have realized which way Jim's mind would turn there. "I _mean_ , Pike brought them both over from his last ship and they play poker together." Warren widened his eyes with a 'get your mind out of the gutter' look. "Jeez, Kirk, she's older than we are, but she's way younger than him."

Jim just shrugged. His lack of discrimination, at least while they were students, had been legendary.

" _Anyway_ ," Warren continued. "A couple of guys just happened to be in the right position to overhear her tease him about sounding like Yoda in those critiques he gives after sims. So we sort of started listening for it. Of course, Yoda said a lot of zen stuff and the Chief likes to quote Musashi and Sun Tzu, so it was hard to be sure. Still, people started making comments and it seems like he caught on and decided to play along with the joke."

"So it's just an inside joke based on coincidence." Kirk sounded disappointed.

"Yeah, basically, but have you ever read the books? Once we started really looking for evidence, we found the Jedi code:

'Jedi are the guardians of peace in the galaxy.  
Jedi use their powers to defend and to protect.  
Jedi respect all life, in any form.  
Jedi serve others rather than ruling over them, for the good of the galaxy.  
Jedi seek to improve themselves through knowledge and training.'

Sort of fits Starfleet, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it does fit Starfleet." The manic grin was back. Jim popped out of his seat. "Thanks, Warren. Excuse me - I've got to go tell Bones I'm a Jedi Captain!"

Warren shook his head laughing. He was tempted to follow to watch the doctor's reaction, but he figured it was safer not to and he'd probably hear it all the way down the hall anyway. He couldn't help wondering if Jedi had battle surgeons who cussed their captains out too.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Okay, this is a tale about Giotto rather than by him. I'm going to blame_ _ **T'Keyla**_ _. One of her reviews (for another story) made me think of Yoda saying "_ _Grand Master of Jedi Order am I. Won this job in a raffle I did, think you? ..._ _Master Yoda knows these things. His job it is." - and bingo! a plot bunny sprung to life._


	6. Rule One, Corollary

_Because 'shoot first and ask questions later' is rarely good policy_

 _  
_

* * *

Ensign Ryan Fischer dodged through a doorway and looked to his right to see a massive Klingon. In one smooth motion, he drew his phaser and fired.

"Halt simulation."

Cmdr. Giotto shook his head. What was the Academy teaching them these days? He descended the stairs from the observation booth and walked to the newly assigned ensign, who had come to attention in the middle of the training arena and still facing the Klingon frozen in mid-fall with the rest of the scenario. The young man looked vaguely proud of himself, so Giotto paced a slow and deliberate circle around him until he began to look at least a little worried.

"Mr. Fischer, is there a reason you discharged your weapon?"

"There was a Klingon, sir," he answered crisply.

"Yes," Giotto agreed calmly. "And was this Klingon drawing a weapon?" He nodded toward the holographic Klingon, whose hands were clearly empty of armament.

"No, sir."

Giotto raised his eyebrows. "Was he making any hostile move?"

"He was a _Klingon_ , sir."

"Yes," Giotto noted dryly. "I believe we have already established that. However, last time I checked, simply _being_ Klingon did not qualify as an act of aggression. So, other than breathing, did he make any hostile move?"

"no, sir."

A smattering of knowing mutters came from the observers' seats. Fischer looked up, frowning stubbornly. "He didn't have to make a move – you know how they are!"

That would never do. Giotto stepped forward, almost in Ryan's face, but kept his voice level. "Mr. Fischer, I was fighting Klingons before you were born. Believe me when I say that I have a very clear and personal appreciation of 'how they are'." Sam had watched friends die at the hands of Klingons and Klingons die by his own. He looked the young ensign in the eye, allowing just a glimpse of that to show.

Ryan quickly dropped his eyes. "Yes, sir."

At least Fischer, unlike some in this latest group of replacement personnel, didn't seem so wedded to his prejudices that he wouldn't listen to reason. Giotto was not above cracking heads to open minds if necessary, but certainly preferred to avoid it. For now, he backed off slightly. "Tell me, ensign, have you ever actually met a Klingon?"

"Well, …no." He seemed shocked by the question.

Giotto raised an eyebrow. "I assume that's not just because you've immediately shot every one that you've encountered?"

There were a few chuckles in the crowd, quickly stifled when Giotto glanced upward. Fischer flushed slightly. "No, sir."

"Very well, then allow me to explain something to you. Klingons are ruthless warriors and very proud of that fact. What they are _not_ , however, are rabid animals to be killed on sight." He looked pointedly at the ensign. "Do I make myself _clear_?"

"Crystal, sir."

"I hope so, ensign. I have lived through open war with the Empire and it is not something I wish to repeat. Therefore, I trust that in the future you will recall that a policy of 'shoot first and ask questions later' is a particularly ineffective way to maintain an already uneasy peace. _And_ that the First Rule for Security on this ship is to avoid a fight if at all possible. That tends to preclude firing a weapon without actual cause."

"Yes, sir." Fischer straightened uncomfortably, looking anywhere but directly at his CO.

Giotto considered him carefully. Ryan wasn't a bad kid. Based on his age, he'd probably grown up listening to his father's (or, Sam considered ruefully, his grandfather's) friends recalling the last real war and had enlisted expecting to fight Klingons too, especially after the Empire had tested the Federation's strength in the wake of the _Narada_ 's attacks.

"I'll tell you something else, Mr. Fischer. It is always a mistake to allow yourself to think of your opponents as little more than vicious animals. It diminishes your ability to understand their motivations and therefore anticipate their actions, and it diminishes you." Giotto allowed that to sink in a moment. "I _have_ met Klingons, both in combat and in détente. They are formidable and aggressive opponents, but they are not intrinsically evil."

"Maybe not by their own standards, sir," Fischer protested. "But after the atrocities at Archanis IV, -"

" _Mr. Fischer_ ," Giotto cut him off. "Do _not_ attempt to lecture me on Archanis IV. I was _there_." Sam turned to look at the simulated Klingon, still frozen in his last breath. Two groups of colonists had occupied Donatu V. Neither had fared well in the conflict that followed. "Ensign, turn 75 degrees to your left."

Fischer turned smartly, and gasped. The hologram of a Klingon child, frozen with hands raised to cover a scream, stared back at him. Giotto watched as realization registered on Ryan's features. It was a hard lesson, and one Sam did not like teaching, but it was necessary. And it was far, far better to learn it here than in the field.

"Mr. Fischer," he said quietly. "You have just killed an unarmed civilian in front of his child. I hope this is something you will remember the next time you are tempted to condemn an entire race for atrocities committed in the heat of a battle you never experienced."

Ryan nodded mutely.

"You are dismissed." Giotto watched the young man leave and returned to place a comm to Dr. Noel. He was certain that Fischer had learned an important lesson about prejudice and blind hate, but someone Ryan's age probably hadn't learned yet that it was a good idea to talk a lesson like that through with the ship's counselor.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Archanis IV is mentioned in as the site of a Federation-Klingon battle in the TOS episode_ Day of the Dove _._ _TOS never identified a ship's counselor like TNG did, but Dr. Helen Noel_ _seems the most likely candidate. She appeared in the episode_ Dagger of the Mind _and was introduced as a psychiatrist and member of McCoy's medical staff._


	7. A Good Match

_Because it's not always necessary to compete in order to win  
_

 _  
_

* * *

Sam finished his warm up and grabbed a towel, surreptitiously looking up into the gym bleachers as he wiped his face. He was scheduled to spar with the Captain in fifteen minutes and, although they didn't post their schedules, word seemed to have gotten around. A small audience was appearing. It contained more non-security personnel than might otherwise be expected and was heavily biased toward female members of the crew (although he suspected a few of the guys were also here to watch something other than a good match). Giotto laughed to himself. Despite Kirk's behavior off the ship, he had to give him credit for the restraint he exercised around his rather large onboard fan club.

One unexpected face stood out. Denise had staked out a seat front and center and looked like someone settled in to watch her favorite movie - all she was missing was a bucket of popcorn. She waved when she noticed him looking.

He crossed over to the bleachers. "I didn't expect to see you here, Lieutenant."

Lt. Marshall was the ship's diplomatic officer, a regular at poker, and one of the few others on this ship of newly minted 'fleet personnel that he'd served with before. He had occasionally noticed her in the crowd of observers for his training sims, but had also noted that she had a tendency to look away whenever anyone was about to take a hit.

"I should really be very cross with you, Sam," she scolded. "I'm told this is the best show on the ship and I had to find out about it through the grapevine."

Sam resisted an urge to sigh. Denise was a smart, levelheaded woman in her early thirties, but it seemed that she wasn't immune to the Captain's boyish charm. He glanced around at the growing crowd. "Sorry, I had no idea you were a fan."

" _Not_ in the sense of a lot of these people," she said, grimacing slightly. "Trust me, after handling all the complaints about his off-ship pursuits, if I found Jim Kirk naked in my bed, my first thought would be to disinfect the sheets."

Giotto laughed. That sounded more like the Marshall he knew, but he wasn't going to let her off that easily. He grinned up at her. "I notice you haven't said what your second thought would be."

"To call Security and have you _drag him out_." She widened her eyes. "Honestly! You do _not_ think that I'm here to ogle the Captain."

"Maybe not," he allowed. "But you're not usually an MMA fan."

She looked at him for a long moment. "I can be, under the right circumstances."

He was clearly missing something. Sam raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

Denise sighed. "I just finished dealing with the Vacalian Ambassador, a _theoretically_ virgin princess's guardian, and the UFP council." She crossed her arms and gave him a challenging smile. "I came to watch you kick our beloved Captain's ass."

Giotto looked down, shaking his head and trying not to laugh. "I hate to disappoint you, Denise, but Kirk and I are pretty evenly matched."

"Bull!" She leaned forward, arching an eyebrow. "Now I'm not saying there are people doing anything as inappropriate as actually wagering on these matches, but _if there were_ , the odds would be running 3:1 in your favor."

"Oh, really?" It wasn't surprising if people were making a few private bets. The regulations against gambling were among the most widely ignored in Starfleet (right after those restricting real alcohol). But the existence of odds implied something more organized. Sam briefly wondered how Dan had managed to keep that from him. Either he was slipping or his Second really was ready to move on to running his own security division.

"Yes, really – now stop being modest." Denise smiled knowingly. "I've seen a few clips from some of the other matches _and_ I've seen you fight before. These aren't sparring matches; they're sneaky lessons in caution."

Busted. He knew it was part of her job, but Giotto couldn't help but admire Marshall's ability to spot underlying agendas. Kirk had a tendency to just launch himself at opponents in a wild burst of speed and aggression. Because he had the strength and reflexes to make that work most of the time, when it came to fighting he was confident to the point of cocky (always a bad thing in Sam's experience). Training simulations weren't having enough effect, so to avoid having to actually lecture his superior officer Giotto had asked to spar with him 'to keep himself sharp'. It wasn't entirely a lie. When Kirk managed to surprise him, it took real effort to block and counter that sort of rapid, unpredictable attack. Still, slowly but surely Kirk was beginning to get the idea that rushing an experienced opponent was good way to wind up lying on the mat.

Sam smiled and raised an eyebrow at Marshall. "What's it going to cost for you to keep that observation to yourself?"

"A good match – Kirk's gotten used to you waiting and countering whatever he does. I want to see him flat on his back before he knows what hit him and I want to see it at least twice." She grinned mischievously. "And if he says anything, tell him it's nothing compared to what the Vacalians would like to do to him."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _UFP = United Federation of Planets;_   
> _MMA = mixed martial arts_   
> _If you watch Kirk fight in TOS, he does pretty much throw himself at his opponents - sometimes literally. It makes for good action scenes, but you really have to wonder what kind of combat training he had.  
> _
> 
>  _The first time Denise appeared in the original set of tales (Clean Up Operations), Giotto noted that as diplomatic liaison, her job involved smoothing over every 'incident'with aggrieved parties ranging from individuals to planetary governments. You know Jim keeps her busy (even the older, wiser Shatner!Kirk would have kept her busy)._


	8. Teaching a Lesson

_Because sometimes pain is the best teacher, but no one wants to go to his class_

 _  
_

* * *

Kirk hit the mat with a resounding thud and Giotto dropped to a knee, stopping the hammer blow aimed at his opponent's sternum just short of contact. The Captain shook his head and blinked, regaining his bearings, and then tapped the mat acknowledging that Sam had won that point.

They rose and bowed, assuming positions for the next round. Kirk looked a little disoriented and circled Giotto warily. Denise had been right. In the process of trying to teach his captain a little caution, Sam had left him with the impression that he would only wait and counter when an attack was made. Ironically, after he had been the one to attack (with his favorite approach to the 'quickly and decisively' part of Rule Two), Kirk was showing more caution than he had after weeks of having his rushing attacks turned against him. Giotto smiled to himself. About half of the time when he agreed to do something for Marshall, he wound up feeling like he was the one who owed her a favor afterward. At least this time he could pay in advance and teach the Captain a lesson or two in the bargain.

Kirk started edging in closer than he should. He'd either decided that Giotto wouldn't strike first a second time or had forgotten that if your opponent was in range for a hit, so were you. Sam moved swiftly, feinting a strike to the groin to draw Kirk's block and then driving a solid palm strike to his chest in combination with a low kick that swept his leg. The force of the blow sent Kirk's upper body backward just as his leg came out from under him. There was another satisfying thud. Before he could recover, Sam dropped over him in low horse stance miming a strike to the throat. Kirk gave him the second point.

Giotto stepped back, allowing himself a quick glance to see Denise clapping and smiling in the bleachers, and offered the Captain a hand up. Kirk looked a little shaken, but then finding yourself flat on the mat twice in rapid succession could do that, especially when you hadn't expected your opponent to move like that.

As he came to his feet, Kirk groaned a little and flashed a small grin. "Did anyone get the number of the bus that hit me?"

It was said in jest, but to Giotto's practiced eye, Kirk was standing as though there was some discomfort on his left side. He made a mental note to review falls with the Captain before their next match. While Kirk had clearly picked up a lot of moves scrapping on the streets and in bars, his technique when it came to taking a fall could use some work. The Academy taught everyone a certain basic level of martial arts, but no one left an expert based on that training and they certainly didn't spend a month just practicing how to fall the way Sam had when he'd started lessons as a kid.

"Are you alright to continue, sir?"

"Yeah," Kirk said, straightening his padding but moving a little gingerly.

"Maybe we should take a minute and get some water."

The Captain frowned. "Really, Sam, I'm _fine_."

And hopelessly pigheaded. But Giotto wasn't going to voice that. "Okay, sir, but _I'd_ like a sip of water." Sam winked at him. "Humor an old man."

"Right." Kirk rolled his eyes, but headed to the side of the ring. Giotto watched the doctor already pulling his scanner from a pocket. If McCoy let the Captain return, Sam figured he could hit him for the last point in good conscience.

.~.

At the edge of the ring, Jim was trying to ignore the fact that McCoy was looking him over. The doctor hadn't been exceptionally happy about these matches since he was convinced that they represented just one more way for Jim to get himself hurt, but had (mostly) stopped grousing on the condition of being allowed ring-side.

"I'm fine Bones." Jim handed the water bottle back to him. "I'm just kind of wondering what's up with Sam. He's usually all laid-back zen for this, but he's been on me twice now before I even moved."

Bones pursed his lips. "I don't suppose it's occurred to you that it would've been a good idea to - oh, I don't know - maybe stay out of his reach?"

"You mean like maybe he's attacking first because wants to give me a chance to try some of the stuff he pulled on me last week, to see if I've worked it out?"

"I mean, like you're already bruised up pretty good here." McCoy poked the spot, making him wince. "So unless you'd like to see just how hard he can throw you again, you might want to concede and go put some ice on that."

"Hey, I've been holding my own pretty well until today. I just need to figure out why he changed strategy and adjust my tactics."

"Let me put it this way Jim: you've gotten the tar beat out of you in more bar fights than I care to remember and Sam's rarely come back from breaking up trouble on shore leave with worse than split lip." Bones cocked an eyebrow. "It doesn't take a pointy-eared computer to do the math."

"Jeez, Bones, thanks for the vote of confidence." Jim snarked.

McCoy scowled. "I'm a doctor, Jim, not a cheerleader."

.~.

After bowing in, Giotto noted that Kirk was keeping a better distance. Just to test it, he shifted slightly forward as he changed his stance. The Captain actually edged back a little rather then lunging to engage. Either he was finally learning or he hurt more than he was willing to admit. Or possibility both - Giotto knew from long experience that pain could be a remarkably effective teacher. However, he began considering how to drop the younger man without hitting his left side.

Kirk circled, clearly looking for an opening and Giotto decided he'd wait. There were a number of take downs in response to an attack that would allow him to control the way he brought Kirk to the mat. At the moment, however, the Captain was actually displaying caution and Sam allowed himself to fall into the strange harmony that came from simply flowing in response to an opponent's movement.

"Now what?" Kirk asked. "You've made some point about Rule Two, so you're going back to the zen thing?"

Sam just smiled. Banter to distract an opponent was one of the oldest tricks in the book and Kirk was good at it, as he'd demonstrated on a number of missions. However, Giotto had no intention of falling for it, so his only answer was to switch in with a fast crescent kick. The Captain managed to block it, but moved a half-beat too late and was forced to turn with the impact, exposing his right side. Giotto pivoted and delivered a side kick to his open flank.

The Captain stumbled sideways with a loud 'Oof!' but kept his feet. In many systems that still would have counted for the third point, but Security had their own rules which required an opponent down and subdued. It trained you for follow-through and also to not give in until you were no longer able to fight back. Kirk, of course, had liked those rules and agreed to them readily. Now he used them to dance back and recover enough to block and counter the volley of strikes Giotto launched for follow-through, but he eventually found himself driven out of the ring.

A bell sounded and they both returned to the center. If Giotto could drive Kirk out again, that would also give him the match.

As they moved back into fighting stances, Sam tried not grin. He really shouldn't be enjoying this. And he definitely shouldn't be enjoying the approving yells from Denise, but then taking a certain pleasure in doing something you were good at in front of an attractive woman seemed to be one of those things you never quite out grew. He quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused on his opponent; that line of thinking was far more dangerous than letting the Captain banter.

At the moment Kirk was hanging back and studying his opponent. "Just out of curiosity, Sam, is there a reason you've decided to kick my ass today instead of just tossing it around?"

Giotto decided to answer to that one. "Avadora."

"That Vacalian chick? But you've never even been on Vacalia." Kirk's eyes suddenly widened as a suspicion hit him. "Have you?"

It was all Sam could do to maintain a serious expression as he saw his Captain leap to entirely the wrong conclusion (albeit one that made sense given Kirk's history). Giotto considered setting him straight, but waited. There was just too much karmic humor in watching Kirk's face as he considered the possibility that he had unwittingly stepped into the ring with an angry father.

"Sam, if I'd known, I'd have _never_ …" Kirk sounded genuinely contrite, and a little worried.

It was too much. A chuckle escaped and Giotto grinned at him. "Luke, I'm _not_ her father."

"So you're just messing with me?" Kirk laughed with relief. "What is this – Jedi mind games?"

The Captain was distracted enough to gesture on the last comment. Live by banter, die by banter. Giotto stepped in before he realized it, grabbed the wrist that had gone a little too far forward and pulled while moving to come beside him. In a smooth motion, he blocked the counterpunch and chopped down on the other elbow, capturing the arm and turning to lock it. Giotto dropped his weight, forcing Kirk down. With the arm lock secured, a small twist was all it took to make him yield.

After they bowed out, Kirk flexed a little, loosening his arm, before shaking hands. "You know, Sam, I'm beginning to think that these matches have nothing to do with keeping _you_ sharp."

Giotto shook his head. "No, sir - believe me, you _are_ a challenge."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Written because several people wanted to see Sam kick Jim's ass (I'm looking at you,_ **T'Keyla** , **DarkEidolon** _, and_ **Harm Marie** _). Kirk keeps getting whumped in the movie, but he does know how to fight. It's just that street-fighting plus Academy combat courses can't stack up against decades of practicing and applying martial arts (There's a black belt considerably older than Sam in my dojo and all I can say is God help any young tough who ever tries to mug him)._
> 
>  _I hope the way I described Giotto's final move made sense. It's basically a standing arm-lock. There are several variations in jiu jutsu and related martial arts. It's usually a defensive move in response to a punch, but it can be used pre-emptively when someone has a hand out in front of him (the usual demonstration involves an opponent waving a knife)._


	9. Course Correction

_Because when you're going through hell, sometimes you need direction to keep going_

* * *

After checking several locations, Cmdr. Giotto found Margolis in a remote training room. She was beating the hell out of a heavy bag and Sims, who was holding it for her, looked to be on the edge of becoming collateral damage. They both stopped and came to attention as soon as they noticed the presence of their CO.

"At ease," Giotto ordered, regarding them levelly. This was contrary to doctor's orders, and they both looked guilty and somewhat worried. However, after receiving notification from McCoy, Sam had not sought Margolis out to reprimand her. He understood only too well the impulse to deal with bad news with this sort of work-out, even if he had no intention of allowing her to think that this was at all acceptable.

"Mr. Sims, you are dismissed." Giotto allowed a look to convey the message that he would be excused _this time_.

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir." The young man shot Margolis a sympathetic glance and made his retreat.

Giotto examined the ensign standing before him. She was drenched in sweat and had obviously been at this for some time while he had been trying to track her down elsewhere. She was supposed to be resting, but he was hardly going to order her to sit down after that sort of exertion. He turned on his heel. "Walk with me."

She fell in beside him as he left the room and began a slow circuit of the training center. Giotto waited until her breathing had slowed. "Was there something unclear about the doctor's instructions, Ensign?"

There was a pause. "No sir." Margolis had been known to ignore rules that didn't suit her, but she was unfailingly honest.

Giotto pursed his lips, nodding slightly. "Then you understand that you are not helping your condition."

"Sir, the treatments don't start until tomorrow and I just thought –"

He held up a hand. "When it comes to medical decisions, you are to let Dr. McCoy do the thinking. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir." She looked down dejectedly.

"I know this isn't easy, Ensign, but I'm told that there's every chance you'll make a full recovery – _provided_ you follow the doctor's orders."

"I know and I will, sir, I just..." She trailed off, either unable to the find the words or unwilling to express them to her CO.

It was not difficult to decipher her feelings. What she faced had once been life-threatening and even now there was the potential for long-term complications, but Dr. McCoy seemed confident she would come through, at least if she cooperated. However, she would probably fall behind in her planned career track. At 19 and newly commissioned, that could feel like the end of the world, even if it wasn't. Sam suppressed an urge to sigh. One of the few advantages of age was gaining perspective on the ambitions of youth as well as a sense of just how mutable the future could be. Conveying that to someone without much life experience, however, tended to be difficult.

"If all goes well, it will take four months or so, perhaps another month or two to get back into condition, and then you can go back to destroying punching bags on a regular basis. I've had injuries before that required a longer recovery."

"But if there are complications..." Her voice caught and she stopped speaking.

Giotto continued to walk, sending up a silent prayer: _please, please don't let her cry_. Under normal circumstances, Margolis was hot-tempered, hard-headed and impulsive to the point of making Kirk look like a model of maturity and restraint. The fiery young ensign was probably the reason for a certain number of Giotto's more recent gray hairs and when it came to her, there were a lot of things he was prepared to deal with. Crying, however, was not one of them.

Fortunately, after a short distance she regained her composure. "It's just that fighting is the one thing I'm really good at, Chief ...and resting quietly isn't."

Now there was an understatement. Giotto pressed his lips against a smile and allowed one eyebrow to quirk upward. "Kathy, have you considered that a little time being forced to learn to sit quietly might turn out to be good thing for you?"

Her mouth twisted in a sour look. "Right, I know, and whatever doesn't kill me, will make me stronger."

Sam stopped walking. What idiot or idiots had been feeding her that line? She was facing something serious and even if he believed she would come through it okay, he wasn't about to let her think that that's what he'd meant. Anyone who had seen comrades shattered in body or mind in the aftermath of battle knew that obnoxious platitude was complete crap.

"No, and you will never hear me say that," Giotto said tightly. "I detest that saying. In my experience there are any numbers of things that we're just plain lucky to survive at all, even with permanent damage. The only strength to be gained from those comes from looking back and realizing that you _did_ survive."

For a moment he was worried that he'd said the wrong thing, but then Kathy actually relaxed, looking relieved. Sometimes the truth was worth more than any amount of empty comfort. She stood a little straighter and met his eyes. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

 _About time_. "Granted."

"Sir, is there any chance that I could be reassigned to the _Enterprise_ once this is over?"

That's what was worrying her most? Giotto felt his eyebrows climb. "I can't imagine why you would need to be _re_ assigned, since I don't recall signing any orders allowing you to transfer elsewhere." As if he or McCoy would let anyone else oversee her treatment while they had anything to say about it.

"But I'll be relieved of duty for almost six months." Her face was a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "A ship can't afford to haul someone along as baggage for that long."

Giotto cocked an eyebrow. "I don't recall authorizing a six month long vacation either. You're off the duty roster for missions, patrols and other physical work, but that certainly doesn't mean that there isn't anything for you do."

"I don't understand, sir."

She would soon, although neither of them was probably going to like it. Margolis occasionally reminded Sam entirely too much of himself at that age and that wasn't necessarily a good thing in terms of what he had planned. He looked at her solemnly. "Tell me, Ensign, do you still want your career to be in security?"

"Of course," she replied, her chin lifting with a hint of her usual spirit. "My plan was to have your job, Chief."

"Well then, strange as it may seem, this problem may turn out to be just a bit of a course correction in getting there." Giotto gave her a wry smile. "You'd be surprised how much of my job involves sitting quietly at my desk."

A pained look crossed her face, but she rallied quickly, assuming the stoic expression all cadets learned for inspection.

Giotto put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't look so unhappy, Margolis, you may find that you're better at it than you think."

Or at least Sam hoped so, otherwise the rest of his hair was likely to be gray by the time he could put her back on _active_ duty.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Written because I had something show up on a mammogram. It turned out to be benign, but I had a few anxious days waiting for results and trying to image how I'd handle family+work+treatment if I had to - a very different reaction than the last time this happened, right after starting grad school almost 20 years ago._
> 
>  _Of course Margolis has something completely different since I expect breast cancer to be a thing of the past by the 23rd century, but writing this provided an outlet while I was sitting in the waiting room wishing doctors today could just wave a little round scanner over you and have instant results.  
> _


	10. Consequences

_Because a word to the wise isn't necessary and the foolish only learn through consequences_

 _  
_

* * *

Cmdr. Giotto stood in his office, subjecting the two junior officers standing uncomfortably at attention before him to an unnerving level of scrutiny and a stare he had honed through the years to be seriously disconcerting, especially to subordinates who had earned his displeasure.

"Gentlemen, shall we review your role in the events of yesterday's mission?"

Ensigns Darnell and Flynn carefully kept eyes forward, but shifted apprehensively. It did not take extrasensory abilities to read the mutual thought that they would really rather not, although neither one was going to be foolish enough to voice it. A wise move on their parts, since their behavior yesterday had used up at least a year's quota of foolish as far as their CO was concerned.

Giotto stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. "I did not hear an _answer_ , gentlemen."

"Yes, sir," they replied in the tone of men who knew that they had just consented to certain doom but that not consenting would only make it worse.

"Very well." Giotto paced a slow circle around them. "What is the last thing you remember before reviving in sickbay?"

Both ensigns continued to stand ramrod straight, frozen like men in deep water who had just sighted a fin of a large shark. It was almost possible to feel the tension between them as each willed the other to be the one to speak.

Giotto allowed their discomfort to grow for several more seconds before selecting one of them. He moved to within centimeters of Darnell's face and used his best drill instructor voice. "I _expect_ an _answer_ , Ensign."

" _Sir_ , a local offered us a drink, _sir_." Darnell snapped out, his attempt at maintaining military bearing marred by a furious blush. Of course, since the local in question was the same one who had nearly gutted the Captain after insinuating herself into his bedroom, Darnell had good reason to blush.

Sam raised an eyebrow at the young man who carefully focused on looking anywhere but his CO's face. Giotto turned his attention to Flynn. "Mr. Flynn, didn't your mother ever teach you not to accept treats from strangers?"

The ensign swallowed nervously and tried not squirm under under his commander's steady gaze. "Yes, sir, she did, sir," Flynn replied, shamefaced.

Giotto stepped back to where he could regard them both levelly. "And what, may I ask, could have induced you to disregard that sage advice?"

Both fell into another silent contest of waiting for other to speak first. Undoubtedly the ensigns posted at watch had been influenced by exposure to at least some fraction of the charms the would-be assassin had later used to lower Kirk's guard. Neither was eager to admit that, however, especially to a CO with a reputation for making the punishment fit the crime.

"I am _waiting_ , gentlemen," Giotto warned.

"She seemed ...nice, sir." Darnell finally offered.

"Nice?" Giotto let his eyebrows climb.

"Friendly, sir," Flynn added weakly.

"I see." It was a miracle both of them had survived even to their early twenties. "Allow me to offer some sound advice, gentlemen. When you are on guard duty, if an attractive woman offers you anything, chances are that she is _not_ making the offer because she nice, friendly, or _in any way interested in gaining the affections of a guard **stupid enough** to accept the offer!" _ Giotto widened his eyes at them. "Do I make myself _clear_?"

" _Sir, yes, sir_ ," they barked in unison, straightening to even more rigid attention.

"Good, because you are both extraordinarily lucky that that drink contained only a strong sedative and not poison." Giotto clasped his hands behind his back and waited, letting that statement sink in. "I trust you will take my advice to heart, gentlemen. However, to ensure that you recall it somewhat better than your mothers' lessons, for the next month you will stand guard duty outside the Captain's quarters according the ancient rules of the British Royal Guards." He gave them a thin smile. "Because you have both been so _forthright_ during this interview, I will even provide you with appropriate costumes to help you stay in character."

Giotto paused a long moment and watched their expressions as they contemplated the implications of that. "Mr. Darnell, Mr. Flynn, you are dismissed."

After his door closed behind the downcast ensigns, Sam made his way slowly around his desk and sat down before allowing himself to laugh. With any luck having Mike and Scott standing guard in full regalia outside the Captain's door would reinforce the advice about 'not thinking with his glands' that the Doctor had delivered loudly and at length during the time Kirk had been confined to sickbay.

There was only one detail left to take care of. Sam tapped a code on his comm.

"Bearskins, Sam?" Denise responded eagerly, her voice full of amused mischief.

"Yes, and thank you. It was a brilliant touch." He leaned back and grinned. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in organizing some tourists to enjoy the sight?"

Laughter answered over the comm. "I've got meetings most of today. Meet me in the officers' lounge after dinner. We can plot over a couple of drinks."

Sam suppressed a chuckle. The irony of the invitation was not lost on him. "Okay, but I'm buying."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _AN:_ **karenSi** _asked if there would be more chapters with Sam and Denise visiting punishment on naive young officers and I realized I had left this one on the back burner long enough._
> 
>  _Bearskins are huge black fluffy hats worn by the Royal Guard, who are also traditionally dressed in red and are supposed to never react or show any signs of distraction. For a long time trying to get one to smile or laugh was a popular tourist thing to do. Darnell appears in the TOS episode_ The Man Trap _where he dies after the salt monster gets close to him in the guise of a pretty girl. Also in that episode, in one of the great ironic moments in TOS, Jim tells Bones to stop thinking with his glands._


	11. Misdirection

_Because sometimes the hardest thing to see is what's right in front of you  
_

* * *

"Sam, why are there guys in giant black hats playing statue in front of my quarters?" The Captain waved his hands in the universal symbol for WTF? as he dropped into a chair at Giotto's table.

Sam glanced at Denise who was clamping her mouth shut, trying not to laugh. So much for letting the diplomat handle this. He took a sip of his drink to buy a moment to compose himself.

"Darnell and Flynn are receiving specialized training in how not to be distracted during guard duty, sir."

The Captain gave a frustrated huff. " _Jim_ \- how many times do I have to say that when we're off duty, it's _Jim_?"

Giotto smiled mildly. "It was a work-related question, Captain."

"Right." Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose. "How long are they going to be there?"

"Four weeks."

The Captain's eyebrows rose. "Four _weeks_?"

"The Captain was almost killed, Sam. I told you it should be longer." Denise had gotten her game face in place. If it weren't for the sparkle in her eyes, Sam would almost believe she was chiding him.

Giotto matched her neutral expression and raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you were right, Lieutenant. I could always add a day each time they break character - that ought to add a week or so."

"That won't be necessary," Kirk said flatly. He looked from one to the other and narrowed his eyes. "Why do I get the feeling that Darnell and Flynn aren't the only ones meant to learn a lesson here?"

"Public examples are always meant to provide lessons for the whole crew," Giotto answered with complete sincerity. After all, he sincerely doubted than any of his other officers would ever be tempted to make the same the mistake. If the Captain also happened to learn something, well, he _was_ part of the crew.

For once, Kirk seemed to be making the connection. He sat back and crossed his arms. "And I take it this is also supposed to be my punishment for letting her into my quarters."

"Hardly, sir." Giotto looked the Captain straight in the forehead. "I would never presume to discipline a superior officer."

"It only seemed appropriate for them to stand guard at your door, Captain," Denise added genially. "You deserved a front row seat since you're the one they endangered by thinking with the wrong heads."

Sam pressed his lips against a smile. It never ceased to amaze him what she could manage to say with a perfectly straight face.

Kirk opened his mouth to respond, but the Doctor appeared behind him and swatted him across the back of the head before he could speak.

"Shut up, Jim. You're going to be treated like an actual king for the next month – which is only fitting since you've got all the basic sense of inbred royalty." McCoy fixed Kirk with a get-a-clue-or-I'll-hypo-one-to-your-ass glare.

Kirk looked from the physician to Sam and Denise. A slightly worried look crossed his face. "I didn't just crash a date, did I?"

Sam chuckled. To imagine this as a date in any sense beyond a pre-arranged meeting would require a serious suspension of disbelief. "No, sir – just a discussion with my travel agent," he grinned. "Denise is going to help organize some tourists to make life interesting for your new guardsmen. You're certainly welcome to join in the planning."

"Seriously?" A mischievous smile broke across Kirk's face.

"Fun as that would be," McCoy said, hauling the Captain up by his biceps, "I came in here to find Jim because I need to have a word with him. We'll see ya'll later."

.

McCoy gave Jim a shove as soon as they got through the door. "I swear, Jim, you've got the social graces of a bull in a china shop."

"What? I wasn't interrupting anything but plans to make the show outside my quarters even more interesting."

The Doctor glanced back at two people laughing over a couple drinks. It was entirely possible that both of them thought that wasn't a date and it was just possible that Jessy was trying to throw him off the scent again by making her CO look like the target for whatever the coven had up their collective sleeves, but either way, letting Jim traipse through the middle things seemed like a bad idea. McCoy treated him to one of his better scowls. "And you knew that before plopping down at that table, did you?"

"Okay," Jim rolled his eyes. "Point taken. Now what did you need to talk to me about?"

"Well, other than the fact that you need a lesson in manners, I need you to do something about Riley. He keeps dropping into sickbay while Margolis is there for her treatments. I know he _thinks_ he's trying to be supportive, but it's like having an over-eager puppy under foot and no matter how many times I chase him out, he keeps sliding back in the minute my back is turned."

Jim laughed. "If _you_ can't scare him off, Bones, he's got it _bad_."

"Yeah, maybe, but Kathy starts repeating 'rule one' under her breath like a mantra every time he pops up. If you don't do something to put a leash on that puppy, she's going to snap and kick him." McCoy glowered. "Unless I do it first."

"You know what, Bones? You're a hypocrite." Jim wagged a finger at him, chuckling. "There's nothing whatsoever going on between Sam and Denise and you scold me for interrupting them, but poor Riley is willing to risk even your hypo-filled wrath to woo Margolis and you're asking me to interfere."

Bones crossed his arms and lifted a threatening eyebrow.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Send me her treatment schedule and I'll adjust Riley's duty roster to keep him occupied." Jim flashed a grin and tapped Bones on the chest. "But _you_ are bitter man who _seriously_ needs to get laid."

McCoy rolled his eyes and walked away. He smiled to himself - he'd be sure to mention that to Jessy the next time he got her alone.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I hadn't meant to write this, but Jim insisted on getting to say something about having royal guards posted outside his quarters. That Riley has crush on Margolis is mentioned in 'Rule One' in the first set of Security Chief tales._


	12. Films about Ghosts

_Because the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings_

* * *

Kirk frowned and rubbed his chin, staring at the chess board. He was losing (not exactly a new experience when playing Spock), but he also wasn't really concentrating on the game. Instead he was worrying a puzzle like a dog with an old bone. His Security Chief hated mysteries, and yet Giotto insisted on _being_ one.

It wasn't because he seemed determined to maintain a certain polite distance. Jim had gotten accustomed to the whole security obsession-with-personal-privacy thing. He even understood. After all there were certainly things in his background that he didn't care to talk about - like pretty much his whole childhood and ages 12-14 in particular. He strongly suspected that someone with his Chief's investigative skills and need to be thorough probably knew about Tarsus, but Giotto had never brought it up in any way, for which Jim was profoundly grateful. So he'd done his best to return the favor and take Pike's advice to just appreciate the fact that a Security Chief ought to be a tough nut to crack.

Still, something was wrong. Giotto was always reserved, but that had turned to quiet this last week. Too quiet in Jim's opinion, and he knew a thing or two about the withdrawn sort of quiet. He'd mentioned it to Bones and gotten 'Mind your own damn business. If he feels like talking, he'll talk'. To Jim, that clearly meant it was driving Bones crazy too, but Giotto had somehow managed to brush off even the doctor's determined prodding. He'd asked Dr. Noel and gotten a more polite version of 'Mind your own damn business' couched in confidentiality - except that a check of Giotto's schedule showed he hadn't been to see her. He'd tried Lt. Marshall and gotten a look that said (a) 'Mind your own damn business' and (b) if Jim pressed her about it, the next time he got into trouble on shore leave he'd have a _long_ wait to be bailed out.

Giotto's service record had been no help whatsoever. Three decades, including a lot of action during the Border Wars, yielded plenty of events that might make particular dates significant, but none stood out for this week. No deaths in the family either, but that didn't seem a likely cause. The anniversary of his wife's death had been two months ago and Jim never would have known if Pike hadn't dropped a hint to try to avoid causing trouble that day. When he checked with Uhura, she insisted Giotto hadn't gotten any bad news from home. She could be pretty strict about privacy too, so Jim had hacked the comm logs just to be sure. Nada.

Kirk was not the sort to give up easily. He'd asked Giotto's second in command and gotten 'everyone is entitled to have a couple bad days' and a shrug that said 'I know as much as you do but I'm not dumb enough to annoy my CO by asking'. He'd gotten the same shrug from Cupcake. He'd asked all four of the female security officers in what McCoy referred to as 'the coven' (and the rest of the ship thought of as McCoy's fan club). He'd gotten two disconcerting stares, one head shake, and one 'respectfully, sir, mind your own damn business'. The last had come from an officer Giotto had personally sponsored for admission to the Academy. Figuring he was close to pay dirt, Kirk had pushed a little harder, only to be rebuffed by cold silence and a glare that suggested that he might have to worry about a friendly fire incident if he didn't drop it. Jim filed for future consideration the fact that Hanlan and Bones seemed to have a lot in common and that the people on the ship who were closest to Sam were both loyal and a little scary.

"Captain?" Spock's voice pulled Jim from his deliberations.

"Sorry, Spock, my head's just not in the game today."

There was a brief pause as Spock translated the idiom. "Might I inquire 'where your head is at'?"

"I'm a little concerned about the Chief. He doesn't seem to be himself."

Spock's head tilted slightly. "Do you have reason to believe that he has been replaced by an impostor?"

"No." There were times Jim could swear Spock was deliberately misunderstanding him. "I mean, he's been sort of quiet and detached, so I think there might be something wrong."

Spock's usual blank expression became even blanker. From a Vulcan point of view, quiet and detached were optimal operating conditions.

Jim tried again. "Look, he's taking a personal day today and he's spent the whole time alone in his quarters. There's just something not right about that."

Spock raised an eloquent eyebrow.

Right. To Spock spending the day alone in some half-comatose state of meditation was the most logical possible use for a personal day. "Okay, I'll grant you that the Chief isn't exactly a people person, but he's not a Vulcan either. For a human, it's not usually a good sign and I'm not the only one who's noticed that he's been acting differently."

"Security is running at its usual level of efficiency," Spock remarked, steepling his fingers. "The only deviation from normal behavior that I have noted is that two nights ago Mr. Giotto declined to participate in his usual game of poker."

That was new data. "Spock," Jim asked, looking at him a little sideways, "how do you know that?"

"The game is usually held in Mr. Giotto's quarters, but the venue was moved when he was not available that evening."

"And you know this because ...?"

"I have a standing invitation to participate," Spock answered matter-of-factly.

Jim put a hand to his chin to keep his jaw from dropping. "Just how long have you had that standing invitation?"

"After you insisted upon my presence at your poker gathering, I requested Mr. Giotto's assistance in learning the finer points of the game. He was most helpful." Spock's lips twitched slightly upward. He'd been all but taking their shirts for weeks. "I continue to occasionally participate at Mr. Giotto's table. He appears to enjoy the challenge of applying his observational skills to a Vulcan and his insights have proven valuable in improving my game."

Whenever Sam was over whatever was up with him, Jim was going to have a talk with him about turning their XO into ruthless card sharp. "But he passed on it a couple nights ago. I don't suppose anyone there knew why?"

"There was a certain amount of discussion during the game, but I do not believe any of it rose above the level of speculation."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "Like?"

"I am sorry, Captain," Spock replied earnestly. "There is a very strict rule that what is said at the poker table remains at the poker table."

Of course. Jim resisted planting his face on the table.

"If it is any reassurance," Spock offered. "I believe it would be within bounds to divulge that no one expressed concern that Mr. Giotto might neglect his duties."

"Okay," Jim sighed. "Thanks, Spock."

* * *

It was 21:00 and Jim found himself walking the hall outside Giotto's door. This was stupid. The Chief was allowed to have some time alone. Still, it felt wrong; he hadn't come out even for dinner. Jim knew about disappearing. He done enough of it until Bones had started dragging him back from whatever hole or precipice he'd found. And he remembered the times his mother had just locked herself in her room and Sam had…

…his older brother, _Sam_ , had taken care of him when their mother couldn't and later had taken the abuse for him when she was back in space and Frank lost it. That was, until that Sam couldn't take it anymore and disappeared. Was that why this was driving him crazy – the stupid coincidence that two people who had gone above and beyond to look out for him shared the same very common first name? Jeez, he was the one who should see Dr. Noel.

Jim turned on his heel and started toward the lift. He stopped. He'd lost one Sam because he'd been a stupid self-absorbed kid who'd never noticed that something in his brother was breaking until it was too late. _This_ Sam noticed when something was off with one of his officers, figured out what it was and did what he could to help. If nothing else, he couldn't fault Jim for trying to do the same and since his normal duty shift would have ended at 19:00, it was technically past the end of his day off anyway. At least that's what Jim told himself as he stood in front of the sensor on Giotto's door.

There was no response. Maybe he had left already. "Computer, Locate Cmdr. Giotto."

"Cmdr. Giotto is in his quarters."

And alone – if he was in there with someone else, he'd have set privacy. Jim thought back. He'd seen Pike knock. He tried that.

Nothing. Most security learned to be light sleepers and he doubted the Chief was any different. He might be ignoring the door, but that wasn't like him. There should at least be a 'Later' barked from inside. Kirk typed his override into the door pad. It stayed locked – Sam had disabled the override. That wasn't good. He entered Bones' medical override. At least that one hadn't been blocked.

Jim's first thought upon entering was that maybe he was wrong about Giotto being a light sleeper. He was stretched out on his couch, seemingly out cold, with a still active padd resting under a hand on his chest. Dear God, surely the man hadn't taken a day off just to catch up on reading reports? That was almost more sickening than anything Jim had feared.

Then he noticed the half-empty bottle on the side table. A few steps closer showed it was premium gin. So, the reading material wasn't work-related. Jim glanced at the bit of screen visible under Giotto's hand and wondered just how much time he and Spock had been spending together. It looked like one giant equation. Now that he knew Sam was okay, he ought to leave, but his curiosity was peaked. He leaned closer to get a look at the document title bar.

 _A biomathematical model of somatosensory processes during proprioceptive adaptation_

Well, Scotty's idea of relaxation was a glass of scotch and a new edition of _Warp Mechanics_. God only knew what Spock read after a couple pieces of chocolate. There were times when Jim thought he was only normal person on the ship - except he had to admit that his inner geek found the title kind of intriguing. He took another look and this time a different part caught his eye: _by Maria Giotto_.

Ah. Okay, that was enough intruding. Jim started to straighten to leave. A hand closed hard around his throat, expertly clamping off his windpipe. Erk. Sneaking up on a sleeping Security Chief – what had he been thinking?

Giotto's eyes snapped open. "Captain?"

" -!- "

The grip on his throat dropped. "Are you alright, sir?"

Jim gasped for breath and felt his larynx. That was going to leave a mark. He could almost hear Bones asking if he was planning to make a habit of getting his senior officers to strangle him (and offering to go next).

Giotto sat up. "I'm sorry sir, but I did lock my door."

"In other words, what the hell am I doing here? I'm sorry Chief. I got worried and came in to check on you." He rubbed his throat. "I _promise_ it won't happen again."

Giotto raised a cynical eyebrow. "Next time you want to make sure I'm breathing, get a medscanner and stand out of reach, okay?"

"Deal." Something was still off. Jim's eyes involuntarily strayed to the padd. "You _are_ alright?"

"My wife's dissertation," Sam sighed. "She was at least ten times smarter than I am. Every time I try to read it, I get bogged down in the equations in Chapter 6." He glanced over at the bottle on the table. "Of course drinking probably didn't improve my reading comprehension."

"Look, I'm not trying to be nosy -"

"Yes, you _are_." Giotto looked at him and Jim realized that what was off was that he'd never seen him even slightly tipsy before. "You would have made a good intel officer, Kirk - that is, if your curiosity didn't kill you first." Apparently the Chief got blunt when he was a little buzzed. "But since I nearly _did_ kill you and you spent a day walking on eggshells a couple months ago, I'll tell you - _this time_. After the first couple years, it's not the anniversaries that get you. You expect the throw and learn how to roll with it. It's the unexpected things, like a few days ago, a researcher requested a copy of some of Maria's data and it just happened to be the stuff she'd collected on me."

"On you?"

"Effects of training on physical awareness, acquisition of muscle memory," Sam smiled wryly. "Who would have thought a med tech would fall for a glorified lab rat?" He took a breath. "Anyway, I'm fine. They're good memories. ...I just needed some time to be alone with them."

Kirk understood. The captain could never show weakness in front of the crew, and neither could his head of security. Private sorrow had to be just that: private. That was probably doubly true for someone like Giotto. Jim suddenly felt embarrassed. He shouldn't be here (someday he'd learn to tell when 'Mind your own damn business' was reasonable advice). "Take whatever time you need, Chief. I'm sorry to have disturbed you."

"It's alright, Captain. I'll see you tomorrow for sparring." Giotto gave him a half-smile. "Practice your falls."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Another one I hadn't meant to write, but a couple things coincided. We just passed the anniversary of the death of a friend's wife and found out that my fil (also a widower) has started dating. Just to really smack me over the head with it, the muses made sure my ipod kept bringing up a_ Counting Crows _tune with the lines:_
> 
>  _...Well, there's a piece of Maria in every song that I sing_   
> _And the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings..._
> 
>  _The title refers to another line in the song: If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts_


	13. The Naked Time

_Because sometimes it's hard to tell where revelations stop and hallucinations begin_

 _  
_

* * *

Cmdr. Giotto returned from securing the weapons locker on the firing range, his head still ringing from the blow he'd taken while disarming the last lunatic. He'd already locked the armory to keep its contents out of the wrong hands, which at moment included a fairly large number of the crew. There were individuals who had souvenir or display weapons in their quarters, but he couldn't hunt them all down now. He had to hope that most of them would fall into the category of peaceful crazies and that he and the remaining sane security crew could handle the rest.

Of course, 'sane' was a relative term and if he had to endure Riley belting out one more Irish ballad, Sam wasn't sure he'd still qualify. He was beginning to seriously regret having reprimanded Margolis for hitting him and if she weren't currently under heavy restraint in sickbay, he'd be tempted to order her to get Riley to shut up by any means necessary.

Sam's vision blurred and he stumbled against a bulkhead. With a sinking feeling, he realized that he had probably contracted the virus too. Giotto was only too aware of his own dark places - you didn't wrestle demons for years without learning their names – and despite what psychiatry could do in this century, there were still flashbacks that haunted his dreams. If he became lost in one of those, he'd become as much a threat as any loose weapon.

The thought of hurting or even killing any of the people he worked so hard to protect was unbearable. Sickbay was three decks away. It would be faster and safer to find someone to lock him in a room somewhere while he was still rational enough to ask. The hall, unfortunately, was deserted and no one was answering their door. For now at least, he still seemed to know who and where he was. Mostly he felt disoriented and off-balance, as if he was drunk. At least that was something he could handle, even if he felt a bit woozier than any stage of drunk he'd allowed himself to reach in a long time. Maybe he could make it to sickbay before it got any worse.

There were sounds ahead. "Let me go of me you idiot!" Denise yelled. "I'm _not_ Princess Leia and you are _not_ a Wookie!"

Giotto rushed toward her, worried, and then nearly collapsed in laughter when Lt. 'Cupcake' Grossman turned to him and bellowed a remarkable imitation of a Wookie's yodeling roar. Surely he was hallucinating? Sulu had thought he was in _The Three Musketeers_ , so maybe his own madness had plugged into Jedi tales. If so, it was infinitely preferable to reliving a Klingon attack.

Denise swatted at Cupcake, who was holding her by the arm, and after spouting a string of offended Wookie noises, he shoved her at Giotto. Sam looked at Warren's expectant expression. "Um, thanks, Chewie, I've got her now. Why don't you …go check on the _Falcon_?"

Grossman bellowed another Wookie roar and strode down the hallway. It occurred to Sam that if this wasn't a delusion, he should find someone to reel Warren in, but he became rooted to the spot when Denise threw her arms around his neck and pressed against him. "I thought I'd never find you."

Okay, he was clearly in the realm of fantasy here, but as hallucinations went, this one was definitely getting better.

Just as he lifted his arms to encircle her, that happy illusion was shattered by klaxons and lights flashing yellow alert. "Security to Engineering," Uhura's voice called urgently. "Security to Engineering."

Giotto almost went out of pure conditioned response before he recalled that he wasn't fit for duty.

"Don't leave." Denise pulled him back to her, pressing his lips with an eager kiss.

Sam's brain stalled completely, but his body responded with no need for further analysis. It had been a long time and Denise was…

…was probably affected by the virus too. An annoyingly rational part of his brain resurfaced and pointed out that she was not in the habit of kissing him, so whatever delusion had taken over her mind almost certainly involved some other guy. It didn't matter what he might want, this wasn't right. If he found someone else taking advantage of her in this state, he'd plant the man so far into a bulkhead it would take a laser welder to remove him.

With an effort he pulled away. "Denise, I ...I need to take you somewhere safe."

She nestled happily against his chest. "I always feel safe with you."

Sam sighed. That was only likely to remain true for as long as he could hold onto some shred of reality. Her hands were reaching under his shirt and he prayed for strength despite little hope of response. This extremely desirable young woman was throwing herself at him and the only decent, honorable thing he could do was push her away. Clearly any deity out there hated him.

Giotto gently tried to remove her arms, but she seemed to have no intention of cooperating. Her breath was warm against his ear. "Can't you see that you're the one I want? There's no reason we can't be together."

There was a strange tingling sensation in his skin and whatever grip he'd had began slipping away. Denise caressed his face and his thoughts strayed after her words. _No, no reason; she was in a different department, outside his chain of command. No reason..._

A wave of vertigo hit him. He shook his head and some measure of reality returned. Somewhere in the back of his mind he slapped himself, _hard_. No reason at all - other than the fact that when she came out of this she'd have every right to hate him and even if she forgave him, he'd never forgive himself. Sam considered the options. His quarters were down the hall. He could push her through the door and lock her in until this was over, but that involved a level of temptation he wasn't sure he could handle. The best choice was sickbay. They'd take care of Denise and the doctor knew his history - McCoy would sedate him the instant he realized he was affected.

"Please, Denise, I need to get to sickbay."

She studied his face and hers lined with concern. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm really sick. I need the doctor." It wasn't a lie. He was dizzy, almost swaying.

"Here, lean on me. Let me help you." She moved under his shoulder to support him. If he didn't know her, the transformation from would-be lover to ready aid would have been startling. Even in the midst of delusion, Denise was someone you could count on. Whoever it was that she thought she was with was lucky man. Sam leaned against her and let her guide them both to sickbay.

...

Denise woke on a biobed and looked around. Sam was on the one beside her, still out cold. She sighed, remembering just enough of previous events to think that this was probably about as close to waking up next to him as she was ever going to get. In fact, after this episode she'd probably be lucky if he'd be willing to be in the same room with her again.

"He's alright," Chapel said, coming to check on her. "He practically fell on the bed and ordered us to sedate him. You're the one who put up a fight. Probably a good thing too - the doctor ran a scan on him just to get you to settle down. He was only in the initial stages of the infection, but he had a pretty serious head injury."

At least she'd been good for something. Denise lay back and looked at the ceiling. "I don't suppose that means there's a chance of memory loss?"

"No way of knowing yet," Chapel replied. She smiled, not unkindly. "What did you expect, coming on to a boy scout?"

Damn. And it would be weeks before she could transfer to another ship. Denise closed her eyes.

Christine touched her arm. "Hey, it could have been worse - you could have thrown yourself at a Vulcan."

Her eyes popped open.

"Don't tell Nyota. My story is that I thought he was Roger and I'm sticking to it." Christine gave her a sideways smile. "If it's any consolation, the Chief seemed to be under the impression that you thought he was someone else too. Whether you want to stick with that story is up to you."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Based on the TOS episode_ The Naked Time. _Since security also functions like MPs, I'm guessing they were pretty busy during that incident._
> 
>  _In that episode Chapel confessed her love to Spock and Riley took over engineering and forced the ship to listen to him repeatedly singing 'I'll Take You Home Again Kathleen'. Kathleen Margolis hit Riley for singing that in 'Rule One' in the first set of stories._


	14. Breaking the Ice

_Because few plans go according to plan, but sometimes they work anyway  
_

* * *

Giotto stood quietly studying the crowd in the ship's lounge, temporarily transformed to a dance hall. In the initial aftermath of the Psi 2000 contagion, there had been a tacit agreement among the crew to just not talk about it. However, that had left a substantial number either avoiding each other or uncomfortable when they had to work side-by-side. Despite the time warp that had ultimately saved the ship, the situation had not improved with time. The Captain had decided that something had to be done to break the ice.

It was not a decision Giotto disagreed with, even if he was less than sanguine about the plan itself. In his experience, a large raucous party was likely to lead to more, rather than less, awkwardness between people come the following morning, especially considering that the punch at this one had obviously been spiked. Sam considered the drink in his hand. He'd opted for gin and tonic (heavy on the tonic) in preference to whatever concoction had been added to the punch, since it seemed likely that he'd need to fill his usual shore leave role and try to keep some order before the night was through.

The point of this party had little to do with him anyway. He and McGraw had exchanged a mutual apology – McGraw for almost braining him under the virus-inspired delusion that Giotto was the Sheriff of Nottingham, and Sam for breaking Will's wrist while disarming him. There was a certain irony in the fact that the one person who'd nearly taken him out during all of that chaos was a kid from safety operations and Giotto had told him that if he ever really wanted to be 'Will Scarlet' he'd be welcome in Security. However, other than telling Biales to get McGraw to sickbay, that's pretty much where his memory of events ended. The next thing Sam recalled with any clarity was being flat on his back in sickbay with what Master Chan used to call 'deja fu' - the feeling that somehow, somewhere, you'd been kicked in the head like this before. Over his years in Security Giotto had lost count of the number of times he'd been concussed, drugged, subjected to psionic attacks and/or zapped by energy fields, so it was a depressingly familiar feeling.

Still, having his memory go AWOL was disconcerting – all the more so because Sam suspected that he had done something that made Denise uncomfortable. He gathered from overhearing Chapel that there had been a case of mistaken identity (which seemed to be par for the course with this virus), however, other than assuring him that he had not done anything violent like McGraw, Denise had so far demurred as to what had actually happened.

"Okay, this one is ladies' choice!" Acting-DJ Rizzo called over the speakers.

A small formation moved purposefully across the room. The 'coven' converged on McCoy, dragging him onto the floor. Sam noted that while the doctor was trying to look reluctant, he didn't seem to be protesting too vigorously. As soon as Jessy had McCoy in hand, the others began scanning the room for more victims. A tactical retreat was in order. Giotto fell back to skirt the edge of the crowd toward the exit.

The doors opened before he was halfway there, admitting Denise in an elegant but somewhat revealing dress. High-slit panels draped from her hips in a cascade of dark gold attaching to a triangular top by a twist of fabric that seemed to serve no purpose beyond accentuating hourglass curves. Sam stopped in his tracks and reminded himself to breathe. If he was even ten years younger... No, Jessy had mentioned a couple weeks ago that she suspected Denise was spending more time in the gym because she was trying to catch someone's eye. In Sam's opinion any eye not caught by her in that dress was probably in need of laser surgery, but he told himself firmly that it was none of his business and faded back to the relative anonymity of a spot near the wall.

* * *

Carrie looked at Rachel in consternation. "Where's the Chief?"

"Disappeared – I swear he actually knows Jedi mind tricks." Rachel waved a hand and widened her eyes. "I am not the dance partner you seek."

"What the _yotz_ is he hiding for? Anyone who can move like that in the ring has _got_ to be able to dance." Carrie frowned and put a hand on her hip. "This is going to be difficult if we can't even get him on the floor."

They both startled as Kirk dropped his arms over their shoulders from behind. "Ladies, do I detect a conspiracy in progress?"

* * *

Sam was just debating the merits of getting another drink when the Captain joined him. "Looks like it's going well." Kirk surveyed the room with a proprietary smile and then gave low whistle. "Marshall's looking _fine_ tonight."

Giotto suppressed a smile. Certainly, no one would ever fault Kirk's eyesight. "That color suits her," he agreed neutrally and resumed contemplating the ice in his glass.

Kirk watched him. "Sam, if I told you to do something, would you do it?"

It occurred to Sam that the consequences of answering that might _require_ another drink, but there was only one correct answer. "You _are_ the Captain, sir."

"It's _Jim_ ," Kirk almost sighed. "And I don't mean an order. I mean, if I said there was something you should do, would you trust me enough to just do it?"

Now there was an interesting question, and probably not strictly philosophical. Giotto pursed his lips. The truth was that when the chips were down, he had come to trust the Captain's instincts. However, right now they were off-duty and Kirk's judgment while off-duty had been known to be questionable. "Is there something specific that you want me to do?"

"Yes." He smiled slyly. "Go ask Denise to dance."

Giotto raised an eyebrow. Just how much punch had the Captain drunk?

"Someone once told me that observation, awareness and deduction are important skills for a commander to cultivate." Kirk bounced slightly on his toes. "And I _observe_ that you've been carefully _not_ looking at Marshall since she came in, so you're probably not _aware_ that she keeps looking over here at you." He flashed a grin. "I may not have your experience when it comes to a lot of things, Sam, but I think I can _deduce_ when a lady wants a guy to ask her to dance."

Sam shook his head and laughed to himself. The fact that he had decided that it wasn't advisable to let himself look at Denise in that dress was a fair bust. As for the rest... He glanced across the room. Denise was talking with a couple regulars from poker, a crowd he should probably join in any case. Giotto was not by nature inclined to be social, but he did usually make a better effort for events like this and he didn't want her to be concerned.

"Chief," Kirk warned. "Don't make me make it an order."

Giotto acquiesced with informal salute. "Very well, Captain."

* * *

Jenkins moved aside as Giotto joined the group. "Abandoning evasive maneuvers Chief?"

Giotto raised an eyebrow at him. His Second was occasionally too smart for his own good and if Dan had put Kirk up to this, he was going to pay for it. "It seems that the Captain has decided that I should ask someone to dance."

Phil bit his cheeks trying not to laugh. "Sure, Chief, I'll dance with you."

"Not _you_." Sam gave him a look. "But if I'm going to be ordered to dance, I'm not going to be the only one. You go ask Susan." He turned to Dan. "You go ask …who are you seeing lately?"

"Like I'd tell you," Dan winked. "But I did promise a couple friends a dance."

Giotto clasped his hands behind his back and waited. Neither of them moved. If he was going to do this, it was not going to be with those two for an audience. "You have your assignments, gentlemen. Dismissed."

Denise waited for them to leave before smiling playfully. "And what are my orders?"

"You are not in my command." He focused on a point a little past her shoes. "However, I'm afraid _my_ orders are to ask you." He glanced up with a wry smile. "I will completely understand if you decline."

"Oh no, you are not getting out of it that easily." She took his arm, and then paused. "But maybe we should wait for a different song."

Sam listened a moment and then laughed. _Someone to Watch over Me._ If the Captain had had something to do with that, either there was a sappy romantic hiding under that womanizing exterior or he really did think Giotto was as old as Yoda.

* * *

Jim frowned. "I don't get it. She's got a hand on his arm, but they're just standing there."

"All due respect, Jim, but look at the dance floor." Julia swept a hand over the scene. "What's wrong with this picture?"

"Nothing – it's a nice open dance floor. The only people out there are Groesner and Casey."

" _Exactly_." Julia widened her eyes. "Most people stopped dancing to that tune three centuries ago. Did you _seriously_ think the Chief was going to lead someone out for a spotlight dance?"

"Hey, I have never gotten woman out for a spotlight dance and _not_ scored." A grin broke over his face and Jim looked around devilishly.

"Forget it," Jessy said flatly. "And that was not exactly the point of this exercise."

"I'll take care of the music." Carrie put a hand on Jessy's shoulder, whispering. "Speak for yourself - I'd like to see 'Pop' smiling for a change."

* * *

"I am definitely not dancing to this one," Sam deadpanned.

"Me neither," Denise laughed. "Do you get the feeling those orders were a practical joke?"

"The thought has occurred to me." He lifted an eyebrow. "But apparently not to Dan."

Sam carefully looked away when Denise began shaking with laughter.

* * *

"Well, there _are_ more people on the dance floor." Jim cleared his throat to cover a laugh as ' _If you want my body and you think I'm sexy…'_ boomed over the speakers.

"I _told_ him to play something 'fun and little romantic that people would dance to'," Carrie growled.

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. "That does it. Rizzo is officially creepy."

"Cut him some slack," Jim grinned. "I've always kind of liked this song."

"You would," Bones growled. "I don't know what's going on here, but if you're trying to get Sam on the floor, I say try country or blues."

"Pop _is_ dressed in black," Jessy tapped her lips. "Maybe Johnny Cash?"

Bones beamed at her. "I _like_ the way you think, darlin'."

Jim rolled his eyes. "And you were ragging me for choosing dead-guy music."

"Cash is immortal, Jim." Bones poked him. "And don't you forget it."

"Guys," Julia said, looking across the floor. "Where'd they go?"

* * *

"So is this evasive maneuvers?" Denise teased after they'd escaped the lounge. She slipped as they turner a corner and Sam caught her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded but made no move to step away. Giotto saw no reason to object, particularly if she needed to hold onto him for balance. "Just how much of that punch did you have?"

"That stuff was _noxious_." She frowned, slipping off a broken high heel and leaning against him to remove the other. "I switched to mojitos, but I promise I'm not impaired." She gave him a half-smile. "I know who we are."

Sam tipped an eyebrow. "I still don't remember much."

"You saved me from being dragged around the ship by a Wookie." Her lips twisted wryly. "Cupcake thought I was Leia."

Giotto chuckled. "So I guess he figured I was Yoda or Obi-wan."

She paused a beat and looked down again. "You seemed more like Han."

There was a slight flush on her cheeks. Ah. That would certainly explain what had made her uncomfortable. "Whatever I did, Denise, I apologize. In my right mind, I'd never..."

"I know. And in whatever mind you were in, you didn't. You knew who I was, even if I wasn't quite myself." She stopped and looked up at him, almost bashfully. "I kissed you, Sam - practically threw myself at you - but you stopped me."

Giotto felt his eyebrows rise. He was grateful that by some miracle he had behaved decently, but couldn't help thinking that he must have been in the midst of a very peculiar to delusion to have responded that way.

She took a step, looking away. "The doctor said that some of your memory might come back and I guess I've been ...uncertain what you'd think if it did."

Giotto briefly considered the irony that it was going to be difficult now not to think about something he couldn't remember, but he certainly didn't want Denise to feel awkward or embarrassed. "Everyone who was affected behaved strangely. Believe me, I would never take it as anything but that."

Denise sighed and pulled at a strand of hair the way she did when deciding whether to fold or call. She turned and looked at him. "That's the problem, Sam. I want you to take it as more."

For moment he was stunned - he been hit by phasers with less effect. A number of things Sam would have noticed immediately if they hadn't touched him directly suddenly fell into place. He was an idiot not to have seen it. "Denise, are you sure? Just because you know a little too much about what these young turks do on shore leave -"

She held up a hand. "If you're not interested, just tell me. But beg off on grounds of being older and I'm going to call you for breaking your own Rule 3."

The worst part was that she was right. He didn't let anyone count him out because of his age but had dismissed any notion that she might be interested based on exactly that. Of course, the best part was also that she was right. It was extremely tempting to kiss her, but they were standing in the middle of the hallway. Even if it was deserted, there were regulations. He cupped her cheek instead. "Denise, I'm very interested."

She put her arms around him and Sam had an extremely pleasant sensation of deja vu when her lips met his. Mmm. Well, from what he'd heard even Spock had ignored those regs at least once...

 _"What the hell were you thinking?"_ A yell came from the direction of the area outside the lounge, followed by the sound of a body being slammed into a bulkhead and more angry voices.

She released him and Giotto glanced heavenward. Why now?

A loud crash echoed down the hallway accompanied by a shout: _"I'm going to kill you!"_

Denise stepped back with a resigned smile. "Go - I'll find some flats and meet you back inside. You still owe me a dance."

"I'll remember." Giotto headed down the hallway. Whoever was fighting would be _lucky_ if someone else killed them.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A little long, but once I decided to let Jim have a hand in things, there were bits I had to include. Bonus if you caught the Farscape ref.  
> _


	15. Setting Priorities

_Just because_

* * *

Giotto looked up when the door to his quarters buzzed. He made a habit of setting two hours of private time every day, but far too many people on this ship had learned that he generally used the time to read. Worse yet, he'd allowed occasional interruptions after it had become clear that that was easier than dealing with whatever 'initiative' these rookies might decide to take in the absence of direction. It was time for that to change. Jenkins should be ready to handle any relevant questions by now.

"Later," Giotto barked, allowing just enough irritation in his tone to deter further attempts.

Denise placed a hand on his jaw, turning his face back to her. " _Much_ later," she amended softly before recapturing his lips.

Sam had no intention of opening his private life to ship gossip, but from now on his reading was going to be completing absorbing.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _More of a drabble than a chapter but it insisted on being written._


	16. Mirror, Mirror

_Because there are some constants no matter what universe you're in._

 _  
_

* * *

Cmdr. Giotto joined Spock on the way to the brig. This was an unusual situation to say the least, but he expected that the Vulcan had good reason. "Why do you believe they're not our landing party?"

"I am certain you will understand once you encounter them." Spock nodded toward the brig.

Four people who bore a distinct physical resemblance to the members of the landing party shared a single holding cell. However, that these were not Kirk, McCoy, Scotty and Uhura - or at least not those four in any normal state of mind - was immediately apparent.

"I order you, let me go! Traitors!" the Kirk look-alike screamed, bearing his teeth in a near-feral snarl.

"Why am I with _them_?" A fierce Uhura demanded. "Who _is_ she, Spock? What bitch are you tossing me aside for?"

Giotto looked at Spock, keeping his expression carefully blank. "Yes, I see what you mean."

"What are you up to, Spock?" The strange McCoy growled with far more venom than the real doctor used even when Spock was the target.

The false Kirk slammed his hand against the brig wall. "Spock, you traitorous pig! I'll hang you up by your Vulcan ears. I'll have you all executed!"

"I think not," Spock responded calmly. "Your authority on this ship is extremely limited. The four of you will remain here in custody until I discover how to return you to wherever it is you belong."

"Has the whole _Empire_ gone crazy? What kind of a uniform is this?" not-Kirk ranted. "Where's your beard, Spock? Giotto, what happened to your scar? Where's my personal guard?"

Spock clasped his hands behind his back. "I can answer none of your questions at this time."

"All right, Spock. Whatever your game is, I'll play." The other Kirk's eyes narrowed. "You want credits, I'll give them to you. You'll be a rich man. A command of your own? I can swing that, too."

Spock raised an eyebrow and turned to Giotto. "Apparently some kind of transposition has taken place. I find it extremely interesting."

"Interesting is not necessarily the word I would use, Mr. Spock." Appalling came to mind, particularly as it was likely that their real crew mates were in whatever world these four had recently inhabited.

" _Giotto_ , release me _now_ ," the other Kirk spat. "I _let_ you have Marshall. If you cross me, your political officer won't be able to save you."

Sam raised his own eyebrow. "I believe I have heard enough Mr. Spock. I concur with your decision."

They left the brig together, the other Kirk shouting both threats and offers of power behind them. Spock's eyebrows were drawn down in a V. "Fascinating. An alternate universe with a technologically advanced Empire that is nonetheless utterly barbaric."

"Civilization, at least among us humans, is frequently a matter of perspective. By our standards, conditions aboard earth's ancient pirate ships were often more democratic and 'civilized' than those aboard their Royal Navy counterparts." Giotto frowned. He did not like imagining what his own counterpart might be like under either of those models.

Spock tilted his head. "The reference to Lt. Marshall..."

"It suggests an Empire more like a police state than a Mongol horde. In their universe she is not a diplomatic, but a _political_ officer and one with potentially more power than their Security Chief." And yet seemingly still a prize to be passed out in some sort of reward system. Sam found the idea nauseating. He could only guess how Spock found the idea of Uhura in that universe.

"There would seem to be some alliance between them." Spock's voice betrayed no more than simple observation, but the very fact that any hint of emotion was so completely suppressed was itself telling.

Giotto offered what comfort he thought the Vulcan might accept. "In ruthless societies humans tend to form personal alliances to mitigate the dangers in the system. A political officer would be a valuable ally, but might need protection from her own shipmates. If our officers have not given themselves away, the assumption of such alliances may protect them."

"An association formed for mutual protection would be logical under such circumstances." Spock's head tilted quizzically. "The preferred arrangement would involve …personal loyalties… so that other parties would have greater reason to fear retribution."

From anyone else that would be prying, but Giotto knew the implied the question had little to do with him even if there was a slight note of curiosity. "An alliance between the XO and the officer controlling communications would also be logical, all the more so if they had personal reasons to be loyal."

There was momentary variation in the Vulcan's stride as he glanced over at Giotto and then gave minute nod. "It is to be hoped that we can determine how to retrieve our officers before such pre-established loyalties become a danger rather than a shield, provided of course that they have more successfully assumed the roles of their counterparts."

Spock's tone was impassive, but his posture betrayed tension. Sam did not understand how the Vulcan processed this situation, but he knew how he would feel if their positions were reversed. "Their rules may be markedly different than ours, Mr. Spock, but they must have them. I have to believe that _our_ Kirk will be as adept at grasping the prevailing rules and turning them to his own ends there as he is here."

* * *

Jim wiped blood from his lip. What sort of fucked up universe was this where curly-headed 17-year-olds tried to assassinate their Captains to move up in rank? He relaxed slightly when Wilson holstered the phaser that had clearly been set on kill – he hadn't been entirely sure if the guard had turned on the others to aid him or to eliminate witnesses.

Coming to attention, Wilson gave what Kirk was coming to think of as the heart-heil salute. "Captain, Cmdr. Giotto reminds you that Security remains loyal."

Thank God the Chief had his back in this universe too. Jim returned the salute with as grave a face as he could muster. "Extend my compliments to the Chief."

Wilson went rigid, looking almost fearful.

"You may extend them in person." Giotto's voice came from behind and Jim turned sharply.

Holy hell. In this universe Giotto was seriously bad-ass, like Sith Lord meets Attila the Hun. A ragged scar ran across the side of his face and he was armed with phaser, agonizer, a savage looking dagger and (Jim was willing to bet) a few concealed weapons. Kirk had the uncomfortable feeling that this Chief's version of Rule One involved phrases like 'Go ahead punk, make my day'. No wonder Wilson gone statue; Jim barely remembered in time that he was supposed to be pretty bad-ass himself.

Scary-Giotto offered the standard salute and Kirk returned it. "Loyalty will be rewarded Chief."

"I do not doubt it." The reply carried an unspoken 'It had better be'. Mirror Giotto examined him with unnerving scrutiny and then advanced on Wilson. "Your will advance a rank."

"Sir." Wilson gave a crisp imperial salute.

Giotto did the heart-heil response and backhanded Wilson into the wall on the 'heil' part. "That is for acting too slowly. Take Mr. Chekhov to the booth."

Wilson and the guards accompanying Giotto hoisted the unconscious Chekhov and hauled him away.

Giotto faced Kirk, one hand resting on the pommel of his dagger. "A word, Captain." It was not a request. This Chief was wary of him, but showed none of the tolerant deference Jim was accustomed to from his Giotto.

Kirk decided to brash is out. "Make it short."

"Short: you are disobeying Command directive by sparing the Halkans. Why?"

"That's my concern," Kirk snapped, playing offended tyrant to the hilt. If the bluff didn't work he could wind up with that dagger buried to the hilt in his chest. "I'll explain my reasons when _I_ choose."

"You're scheming of course," Giotto chuckled harshly. "I warn you, whatever game you're playing this time, be prepared to explain it before someone's ordered to kill you. I won't ask Marshall to risk trying to shield you from the consequences of disobedience."

Jim smirked. Uhura had told him how things worked around here. "Maybe I'll ask her myself."

It had been the _wrong_ thing to say. A savage Giotto took a menacing step forward and Jim's life flashed before his eyes. _Frak_. He and the coven may have failed to fix them up in their universe (a line dance, seriously, how did that count as dancing together?), but here things were obviously different.

"If you touch her," the barbarian Giotto stated levelly. "I will string you up by your own entrails and save the Empire the trouble of ordering an execution." His lips curled in a thin smile. "That is, if _she_ doesn't gut you first."

Note to self: if stuck in this universe do not mess with Denise. Kirk forced himself to swallow and covered with a loud laugh. "I'm hard to kill. But don't worry, I would _only_ ask. Like I said, loyalty is rewarded."

The Chief-from-hell nodded curtly. "We will both expect more reward than that if you survive this gambit."

"More, yes. But _I_ say how much more." Jim spun and strode off, finally breathing when the prickle between his shoulder blades failed to become a knife. No matter what Bones said, sometimes laughing in the face of danger really was a survival strategy.

.

"That is not our Captain." Marshall stepped from around the corner, sheathing her knife after Kirk had retreated - and this one did retreat. Even the real Kirk wasn't cocky enough to turn his back on Giotto.

"Spock believes there was a transposition when the transporter malfunctioned. The strange Scott has been altering circuits to create a power surge to reverse the exchange."

She stepped close; both invitation and challenge, like every time she came to him. "What will you do?"

"Spock wants the real Uhura back." Sam ran his fingers along Denise's cheek. She would be a lion among sheep in whatever dimension these others came from, but he would not want to be left with a weaker version. "As long as it's done quickly, I've agreed to give them a chance to succeed."

"And if they don't?" It was the political officer's prerogative to interrogate whomever she chose and in whatever manner she pleased. He was tempted to make her try to force the information from him, but there wasn't enough time for such games.

"Either way, the Vulcan will owe me. He prefers to remain a secondary target, but he'll take the captaincy if he has to." He pulled her against him. "Unless you'd prefer to be a Captain's woman?"

"I prefer that you be the Political Officer's man." She traced the scar on his face. "You are enough of a target now. Our Kirk is unstable, but profitable. We'll get him back, and he will owe you even more..."

* * *

Kirk stepped off the pad in a blessedly normal transporter room.

"Welcome home, Captain," his own Spock said. The Giotto beside him was both un-scarred and minus the ominous Abandon-all-hope-if-you-piss-me-off attitude.

"Damn good to be home," McCoy replied. "Although I think I liked Spock better with a beard. It gave him character. Of course almost any change would be a distinct improvement."

"Well, I like clean-shaven," Uhura cut in before Spock could zing the doctor in return. "And Chief, you look a lot better without the scar."

"And the sense tha' you should have yer own menacin' theme music," Scotty added.

Kirk grinned. "Your counterpart was pretty scary Chief."

Giotto lifted an eyebrow. "And I'm not?"

"Well," Jim laughed. "I don't think you'd ever seriously threaten to string anyone up by their own entrails."

"No," Sam smiled slightly, pondering menacing theme music. "I can think of _dozens_ of less messy ways to kill someone."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In the TOS_ Mirror, Mirror _Sulu was the Security Chief and also sported a wicked scar. Combining helmsman and Security Chief always seemed a stretch to me, so I fixed it with the mirror version of Giotto._


	17. Surprise Inspection

**Surprise Inspection**

 _Because you can fool some of the people some of the time, but not Grandma_

 _  
_

* * *

Cmdr. Giotto sipped his coffee, studying sensor reports when an incoming message from Admiral Mayweather's office appeared on his screen. After the Starfleet-United Earth Sector insignia faded, Giotto's second cousin grinned at him through the terminal.

"Do you have time to take a comm from Grandma, Commander?"

"Of course." It was the only possible response. The _Enterprise_ had had the sort of adventure that made the news a couple days ago, so her next call would be to the Admiral if he declined.

Sam smiled when her image appeared on the screen - 108 years old and still dying her hair an unnatural shade of red, but the eyes that looked back at him were as sharp as any hawk's. Dictatorships had disappeared from earth long ago, except in his family where Grandma ruled supreme.

"Samuel Bartholomew, why haven't you called?"

He was past 50 and a Commander in Starfleet. It was still difficult not to wince when she used his middle name. "Hi, Grandma. I was going to call tomorrow."

" _Everyone_ is going to call tomorrow." It was true. Tomorrow was Grandparents' Day and after raising seven children (her own three plus her brother's four after the transporter accident), she had a small army of grandchildren, not to mention a growing horde of great- and great-great-grandchildren. Sam had planned on a quick 'Hi, have a great day, Grandma' before signing off.

She looked at him sternly "I wanted to hear from _you_ yesterday."

"We had to take the subspace array offline for repairs yesterday, but I'm fine - as I'm sure Starfleet told you."

"You could have called this morning. You know your parents worry." Grandma, who had been married to a MACO, would not admit to worry.

Sam shook his head, smiling. "Grandma, I've been in Starfleet over 30 years. I think they know the drill by now."

"They still worry. _If_ you had children, you'd understand." She raised a challenging eyebrow. Sam was the last of two grandchildren not to provide great-grandchildren. It was not so much a topic as a mine field and one he'd prefer to avoid.

"I'm sorry, Grandma. I'll comm them when I get off duty."

"Good." Grandma deliberately ignored the hint. "Since I twisted Tony's arm to reach you, let's talk. I won't have as much time tomorrow and I want to know how you are."

"I'm fine, but busy. The Kelvans are settled on the planet, but there's a lot of data to go through." Particularly since he'd spent most of the adventure reduced to a polyhedron of component elements and intended to create security procedures to ensure that nothing like that happened again.

She frowned. "That's business. I want to know how _you_ are."

"It's a good ship with good people. I have friends here and I'm happy." And that was all he was saying. Sam loved his grandmother, but she had been after him to find someone and remarry since a year after Maria's death. He had no intention of mentioning Denise to her yet. Fortunately there were other subjects that would let Grandma do the talking. "How's the family?"

"The big news is that Gina is pregnant." Boom - he was right back into the mine field.

"I'll be sure to send her something. How's the restaurant?" Grandma had taken over her brother's business along with his children and still terrorized the kitchen staff. Like nearly all the grandchildren, Sam had learned the art of tossing pizza dough there and had also learned that working in a restaurant was the last thing he wanted to do with his life.

"Business is good. Now don't change the subject," she scolded. "You're my favorite grandson, Sam. I know you didn't hit it off with Bernice last time you were home, but now -"

His door chimed as Hanlan came in with the duty roster. Saved by the bell.

Jessy stopped when she caught the face on the screen. "Excuse me, sir. I didn't know you had a private call."

"It's okay, Lieutenant," he said, taking the padd from her, and then realized introductions had better occur. "This is my grandmother. Grandma, my aide, Lt. Hanlan."

"A pleasure, ma'am." Hanlan had unconsciously straightened to attention.

"The same, Lieutenant." Grandma nodded regally, dismissing her.

Jessy turned and left, forgetting that her actual CO was the one who was supposed to dismiss her. Grandma had that effect, even on admirals. Sam hadn't worked out if it was because the grandfather he barely remembered had served on the first starships after the NX-01, putting Grandma on a first name basis with half the 'fleet Old Guard, or if it was because she had taken to heart Admiral Archer's quip that mothers (and therefore grandmothers) always outranked anyone in the room.

Grandma studied him carefully. "She's not the one."

"The one what?"

"The one you're sleeping with," she stated matter-of-factly.

Sam barely managed to keep the shock off his face. He really shouldn't be surprised. Grandma had decided at 90 that age gave her the right to say anything she pleased. He probably shouldn't be surprised that she knew either. Everyone said he got his talent for reading people from her, but he didn't have half her skill. By the time he was 15 it been uncomfortably clear that she could tell with one look when he hadn't actually been studying at friend's house. Of course, he'd inherited a stubborn streak from her too.

"Lt. Hanlan along with half the people on this ship call me 'Pop' when they think I'm out of earshot. I'm sorry, Grandma, but that's as close to great-grandchildren as you can expect from me."

"I've always said you'd make a good father," she continued unperturbed. "If your lady friend is close to your age, you shouldn't wait too long."

Well, at least Grandma wasn't likely to object to Denise being a lot younger, provided of course that she wanted children... Gah _._ That was not even remotely a legitimate question at this point.

"We are not having this discussion Grandma."

"But you _are_ seeing someone." She smiled smugly. "You look just like you did when you were first with Maria."

Sam just raised his eyebrows. No one else, then or now, including the people who saw him everyday, had noticed any difference. In fact, both the Captain and the coven seemed to still be working on ploys to fix him up with Denise, completely ignorant of the fact that it was unnecessary (although it was fun letting them continue and plotting seemed to be keeping Kirk out of other trouble).

Grandma nodded happily. "It's about time, Sam. You've been alone for too long."

Despite pushing him to remarry, Grandma had stayed a widow for 22 years before blindsiding the whole family by eloping at 83 with a neighbor nobody had imagined was more than an old friend (Sam might have gotten that from her too). He raised his eyebrows a little higher. "How's Joe?"

"We're renewing our vows this May. You'll bring your girlfriend of course." It was closer to an order than an invitation.

"The ship is supposed to be in the Laurentian system then, so -"

"Is she someone I've met?"

Sam restrained a sigh. He hadn't actually admitted that there was a someone yet, but lying was not an option. Grandma had moved in with them when he was seven ( _Your mother needed help, Sam. You were a handful_ ) and she had taught him to play poker ( _It got you to sit still and helped with math_ ). She was an expert at spotting his tells. That still didn't mean he was going to tell her.

"You've met most of Starfleet, Grandma."

"Good, she's one of your shipmates then."

"I didn't say that."

"She is." Grandma nodded confidently. "Is she Catholic?"

Oh, to be eight again so he could put his fingers in his ears and run away. "I should really get back to work soon..."

"Don't be like that. I'm just asking because you shouldn't get married on a 'fleet ship again. It's bad luck."

Sam resisted an urge to beat his head on his desk. "I just started seeing her, Grandma. It's a little _early_ to discuss marriage."

"She is human, isn't she?" One of the great-grandchildren had married an Andorian and they had needed a host of medical interventions to have a child. Grandma didn't even wait for him to respond. "Human, good, but obviously no one in your department..."

Sam suppressed a smile. The sneaky old lady was eliminating names from a mental list exactly the same way he did when junior officers pretended they didn't know who was responsible for something. At this point he was part of the conversation only to the extent that she wanted to inspect his face for reaction.

The door chimed again. Thank God. Sam let it open.

"Sam, I need you to - " McCoy stopped abruptly when he saw the face on the screen. Grandma had cornered what she considered to be an unreasonably young CMO during the ship's launch ceremony to make sure that he knew his job. Somehow they had hit it off anyway.

"Well, excuse me, Ma'am," the usually gruff doctor slipped immediately into politely deferential Southern gentleman. "I sure didn't mean to interrupt."

Grandma smiled benignly. "I was just making sure my grandson was alive and well since he didn't call."

"Shame on you, Sam - worryin' your gramma." McCoy laid on the charm with the drawl. "The truth is, Ma'am, we've all been working overtime getting things back in order - Sam more than most. But if you'll promise to send more of that delicious chocolate-pecan biscotti, I'll make sure he takes a break more often."

"You have a deal, Leonard." She raised an imperious eyebrow at Sam. "I'll let you get back to work now, but tomorrow I expect to hear more than 'Have a great day, Grandma'. You know I love you."

"You too. Goodbye, Grandma." Giotto leaned back in his chair after the screen faded. "Thanks, Doc, I owe you."

"I recognize a man being grilled by a Steel Magnolia, or whatever the equivalent term might be," McCoy chuckled. "Now, if you want to pay me back, go get Jim to stop acting like a child. Bad enough he keeps provoking aliens to beat the tar out of him without refusing to let me check him over afterward."

"I'll try, Doc." When he was ten, Grandma had bribed him into doctor's visits with the promise of lasagna. Somehow he doubted that that would work on the Captain.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sept. 12 is Grandparents Day. Grandma Giotto was mentioned in_ **T'Keyla** 's Red Letter Days _, and let me know in no uncertain terms that there was something wrong with the fact that she hadn't appeared in my stories yet. I figured she deserved a chapter. (Sam's Grandma resembles mine only in being a veteran's widow and teaching me to play poker at an early age)._
> 
>  _MACOs were a precursor to Starfleet security, but in the 22nd century still a separate military organization resembling the Marines_ _. This story takes place after the reboot of_ By Any Other Name _. In TOS, Kirk gets the Kelvan leader to break by provoking him to lose his temper with pretty much the same result as getting Spock to lose it in the movie._


	18. A Pirates' Life for Me

_Because it's that time in September when sea dogs remember that grown-ups still know how to play_

 _  
_

* * *

"Ahoy Chief!"

Ahoy? Giotto turned to see the Captain jogging up behind him with a manic grin. Sam braced himself. He hadn't even had breakfast yet, and that particular grin was seldom a good sign.

"I be needin' yer help." The Captain swayed, moving his arms like someone about to burst into 'Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum'.

They weren't on duty, but it was far too early for anyone to be inebriated. On the other hand, it was entirely possible that the Captain might be having a reaction opposite to what almost everyone else was experiencing from the after effects of their last mission. "Do you need me to take you to sickbay, sir?"

Kirk laughed. "I be right as rain, matey. _Arrr_."

Giotto did a quick calculation. If he'd been a little more awake he would have realized. Today's stardate corresponded to Sept. 19th in earth's western hemisphere and since the Captain was clearly into the spirit things, the day was probably going to involve more than the occasional 'Avast thar ye scurvy dog'.

"Talk Like a Pirate Day," Sam chuckled.

"Aye, Bucko!" The Captain beamed exuberance, looking at him expectantly.

"Arr" Giotto said almost deadpan. It was just before 05:30 and dealing with the Captain set on 'hyper' was going to require more coffee and maybe a shot of espresso.

Kirk put his hands on his hips and thrust out his chest (which made him look considerably more like Peter Pan than Captain Hook). "With feeling, me hearty!"

Make that a double espresso. "Arr, _sir_."

"Don't be makin' yer ol' Cap'n beg," Kirk emoted, giving him a look right on (or maybe a few steps over) the edge of a pout.

Sam shook his head. Resistance was futile, and likely to delay breakfast. "Aye, Cap'n, and what is it ye be needin'?"

"That's more like it!" Kirk slapped his shoulder with an excess of enthusiasm.

Giotto reminded himself that even pirates didn't hit their Captains (usually) and limited his response to a raised eyebrow. Spock was not the only one who could speak volumes with that gesture.

"Um..." Kirk removed his hand and backed off slightly, but the awkward moment was interrupted when Sam's stomach growled.

The grin returned to high beam. "Come, me hearty, let's get ye some grub and caffeinated grog afore we lay our plans."

.

"Tis fine grog, Cap'n." Giotto didn't know where Kirk had gotten genuine dark roast Sumatra, but he wasn't above letting the Captain know that as inducements went, it was a pretty good one. That and a decent breakfast made it considerably easier to cope with Kirk's ebullient mood. Normally, Sam was in a better mood himself at this hour, but two days of nearly living on stimulants had left him, along with nearly everyone ( _except_ apparently the Captain), a bit dragged out.

"Now that yer back from Davey Jones' locker, we can discuss me plan." Kirk flashed a conspiratorial grin. "If me best old salt will play along even the sawbones can't say 'tis bilge for tykes."

In other words, the Doctor had already been approached about the idea and had told the Captain to grow up in non-pirate but probably equally colorful terms. Clearly, Kirk had decided if he could get Giotto to go along that would provide sufficient counter to objections that playing pirate was immature. Sam tried not to laugh. He had a considerably less inflated notion of his own level of maturity, even if he wasn't quite ready to sign on to spending the day saying 'Arr'.

"I'll be needin' a few o' yer salty wenches," the Captain said, sounding like some unholy cross between Popeye and Jack Sparrow, "to help with the festivities."

"Festivities?"

Kirk raised his eyebrows and waited.

"Arr" Sam added belatedly and took another swallow of coffee. He wondered briefly if he should remind anyone that pirate 'wenches' didn't hit their Captains either.

"A pirate party, a Buccaneer's bash," the Captain enthused. "Just what we need to unwind from our latest daring adventures."

There was some merit to the idea. After a death match with a giant life-forcing sucking space amoeba, they'd been tasked with mapping and analyzing the expanse of dead space the thing had produced, which was not exactly doing wonders for morale. The crew could use something to pull them out of the doldrums and a bit of sanctioned silliness could be good tonic against too much deadly serious. That was basically the point of Talk Like a Pirate Day after all.

"Aye, Cap'n, they're yours. Only do me the favor o' holding down on the rum rations this time so I don't hafta keelhaul too many as get three sheets to the wind."

"Done! If'n ye'll talk to Scotty and get yer people to sign on, we'll have the crew mutinyin' agin their solemn mood in no time." The Captain eyed him impishly. "Could I talk ye inta wearing an eye patch, Sam?"

Sam hid a smile behind another sip of coffee. Somewhere in the back of a drawer he actually had one that looked authentic but could be seen through clearly, a remnant from days when he and Pike had been younger officers with far less concern for propriety. "I'll think on it, Cap'n."

"Tis all I ask," Kirk gave him a sly look. "But there's a bag o' coffee flavored doubloons in it, if ye get yer people into a bit o' costume."

Giotto considered. Phil and Dan would jump at the chance. Given permission, those two scallywags would try to out do each other if only to advance their private competition and lay bets on how many double-takes they could get before folks caught on. However, Margolis was liable to deck the first person to call her a 'saucy wench'. On the other hand, that was likely to happen today, costumes or no. He might be able to limit the damage if he gave her a role as bosun's mate and let her carry a mock cat-o-nine-tails…

"Aye, Cap'n, I'll see to it."

"Excellent, I'll work on Bones and Spock." Kirk rose with a mischievous grin, plucking at his uniform tunic. "Right after I get meself into me own piratey attire."

Giotto bit back a laugh. Kirk was irrepressible and given his current mood, the costume was bound to be flamboyant.

The Captain paused on the way out, touching his hair. "Do ye think a wig would be too much?"

An image flashed through Sam's mind and he gave in to laughter. He was going to have to find some excuse to be on the Bridge at the start of Alpha shift. Spock's eyebrows just might set a new record for this one.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Written for Talk Like a Pirate Day, me hearties. This here story takes place after a reboot of_ The Immunity Syndrome, _arr._


	19. Going on Account

_Because it's not everyday you get to play pirate, so you might as well go for it._

 _  
_

* * *

Cmdr. Giotto entered the bridge just ahead of shift change. As expected Spock was already present, checking his instruments. Unsurprisingly, Uhura was also at her station and equally occupied with her check-in routine. Neither spared him more than a glance nor did the other weary members of Gamma shift, who looked up only long enough to identify that he was not their relief. Of course, people were used to seeing him come and go from the bridge. So much so that they identified him more by his shirt (and probably, he had to admit, the anomaly of grey hair among this young crew) than his actual features.

Giotto moved casually toward the security station as Sulu, Chekhov, Armstrong and Hughes arrived and quietly relieved their counterparts. None of them so much as looked in his direction. It occurred to Sam that he might have to come up with some drills to foster a little more awareness, but for now he smiled to himself. He had a bet going with his Second as to whether anyone would notice before the Captain arrived, and so far he was winning.

He stood just a bit behind Biales. "Quiet night, Ensign?"

"Yes sir." She didn't even look up; just inserted the data card to record the shift logs and handed it to him mechanically. Giotto could see that she was watching the chronometer. Biales and LaSalle, currently at the con with his nose buried in whatever was on his PADD, were the last two members of Gamma shift waiting relief.

Galloway arrived and Giotto carefully kept the left side of his face toward the instrument panels as the young man approached.

"Ensign, you are relieved," Galloway said. He had noted his CO's presence only to the extent of observing formalities.

"I am relieved." Biales smiled slightly as she stood, almost unconsciously adjusting her uniform's neckline to cover a faint silver scar - the last remnant of a near-fatal wound taken while trying to keep the Captain out of the line of fire.

Giotto glanced at the lift door. The Captain was late, probably still primping for his entrance. Sam hated the idea of losing a bet to Dan, particularly one that would leave him obligated to sing 'Tarantara', but Rachel really deserved to see this. He took one more hopeful look toward the lift. Nope. Well, the part really should be sung by a baritone anyway…

"Hold a moment, Ensign."

"Sir?" She actually looked at him now and her eyes widened.

Giotto winked and put a finger to his lips, inclining his head slightly to indicate that she should watch the lift doors. Biales pressed her lips together and waited.

A few beats later the doors opened and Kirk strode in looking like he had raided an entire opera company's wardrobe for all the flashiest bits that could be used for the role of pirate Captain – including by some mad inspiration a chaotic wig of dreadlocks and beaded braids barely contained under a huge hat adorned with a curly plume. And he seemed to be wearing heavy eye make-up.

Giotto heard Rachel nearly choke trying not to laugh, but he kept his eyes on Spock. Yep. That was definitely a new record for single eyebrow lift. Sam wondered if Vulcans had extra muscles in their foreheads. He was reasonably sure no human could raise one eyebrow that high.

"Avast, me hearties!" The Captain called as gasps and laughter erupted around the bridge. "Ye be relieved, Mr. LaSalle. See that yer in proper uniform the next time I lays me eyes on ye."

"Aye, Captain." LaSalle coughed, eyes watering with contained laughter, as he left the con.

Kirk flounced – there was no other way to describe a swagger attempted in that outfit – to the con and flopped sideways into the chair with one leg hitched over the left arm. He lifted a jug emblazoned with XXX. "Weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen! Arr!"

"Captain, are you…" Spock paused searching for an appropriate term. "…well?"

Kirk beamed a grin at his XO. "Aye! Why do ye ask?"

Spock pressed his comm. "Doctor, you are needed on the bridge."

A gruff "On my way," came in reply.

"Blow me down!" the Captain exclaimed. "I've no need o' physickin', matey."

"Spock, it's okay," Uhura began just as McCoy burst through the lift doors.

"What the Sam Hill…?" McCoy stopped at the sight of the Captain. He looked at Spock; looked back at the Captain, and guffawed. "Jim, I take it all back. This whole cockamamie excuse for a holiday is worth it just for the look on the hobgoblin's face."

"Holiday?" Spock inquired, eyebrow edging up again.

"Talk Like a Pirate Day," Sulu offered still chuckling.

Spock's eyebrow remained aloft.

"Vhen ve get to say 'shiwer me timbers'," Chekhov added, grinning. "Or 'Awast ye scurwy dogs'!"

"I fail to discern any basis for such a holiday," Spock stated in a tone suggesting that he suspected he was being pranked.

"The 'basis' is having fun you pointy-eared calculator." The doctor cracked a mischievous grin. "Arrr."

"I am not surprised that you would find a basis for such childish and illogical antics, Doctor," the Vulcan replied stiffly.

The opening was too good to resist. Giotto turned to face the bridge. "Are you calling me childish, Mr. Spock?" He allowed himself a small smile at getting the Vulcan equivalent of a double-take as well as the expressions of disbelief and amusement from the rest. It was not quite on a par with the reaction to the Captain's garb, but there was something to be said for subtlety.

McCoy covered his face with a hand. "Dear God, Sam, not you too."

"Yo ho!" The Captain crowed, pumping a fist. "Me old sea dog, I owe ye yer choice o' plunder."

"Mr. Giotto," Spock straightened, clasping his hands behind him. "I confess surprise that you would indulge in this illogical diversion." .

"What I am indulging in is a highly practical exercise Mr. Spock." Giotto assumed a neutral expression and clasped his hands behind him, effecting (except for the eye patch and gold earring) a reasonable imitation of the First Officer. "As a consequence of our most recent assignments, morale has been particularly low. Since we are weeks out from any hope of shore leave the most practical solution is a light-hearted diversion to raise everyone's spirits." Sam raised his eyebrows. "Moreover I note the neither ye nor any of this lot o' _sprog_ s noticed the least difference in me appearance until just now. I submit that even an illogical diversion as makes folks take note o' what's around them will be to the good o' the crew."

Spock cocked his head, considering. "I concede that the idea is not without merit."

"Do ye concede enough to go along, me hearty?" Kirk flashed a devilish grin.

"I do not believe that I implied anything of the sort, Captain."

"Figures," McCoy snorted. "Ye'd be needin' an actual sense o' humor for that."

"A word Mr. Spock." Giotto crossed to Spock's station and pitched his voice for Vulcans ears alone. "There are going to be a lot of people who react the same way you, and frankly, I initially did to this idea. As department heads, we're expected to lead by example." Sam cracked a slightly ironic smile. "In this case, that means having a bit of fun playing pirate so they'll feel free to loosen up too."

"Mr. Giotto, Vulcans do not 'have fun'."

Right. And they didn't bluff either. "If it's any help, you personally don't need to loosen up in the least for this. There's an announcement to be made to the ship and if you give it that should be sufficient on your part." He brought the text up on his PADD. "I know you understand the value of opportunities to observe human reactions. I'll wager that even if you read those lines as completely deadpan as Vulcanly possible you'll be able to see the shock on the Doctor's face for the rest of the day."

Spock didn't have many buttons, but the opportunity to flummox the Doctor was one of them and definitely the most easily pushed. Giotto watched the Vulcan's face as he scanned the lines and noted when the edge of his mouth twitched.

"You are suggesting that I 'run a rig' on the Doctor?"

Hook, line and sinker. Giotto just smiled quietly.

Spock nodded and turned to the Captain. "Mr. Giotto makes a compelling case that I ought adjust the 'cut of me jib' to read the ships' articles for the day."

"Blow me down!" Kirk laughed. "Chief, I could kiss ye."

Bleh. "I would greatly prefer, Cap'n, that ye not."

"Yer loss," Kirk smiled and turned to Uhura. "Open a shipwide channel, me proud beauty."

"Aye, Cap'n."

Spock stepped forward, straightening with as much dignity as possible and read the announcement in the same even tone as when reciting sensor data.

"Ahoy ye scurvy lot o' dogs. By order o' our Cap'n – hisself the very epitome o' swaggerin' pirateness –"

There was a strangled sound from McCoy and Kirk kept his jaw from dropping only by breaking into a huge grin.

"Every man – or woman – jack o' ye is to affect thar own best piratical manner for the next spate o' hours culminatin' in a Talk Like a Pirate Day party at 18:00 o' the ship's clock. But, thar be some rules. One: Whilst 'wench' is a time-honored pirate term, the swab what uses it shall be expected to endure manfully whatever unquestionably just retribution any pirate lass sees fit to deliver."

Biales sounded a lively 'Arr' and Uhura grinned evilly at the Captain.

"Two: At the aforesaid party there will be grog aplenty, but watch yerselves. Any rum-soaked rapscallions as cause a fight will be keelhauled." He paused a beat. "Mr. Giotto bids ye not think that he cannot find a way do that on a starship."

"Lastly, costumes are at yer own discretion, but ye ought take yer Cap'n as example." Spock tilted an eyebrow at the Doctor. "Arr."

McCoy, who had been holding his sides, shaking with suppressed laughter, lost it and fell against the railing laughing out loud. "By the powers, Spock, I didn't think ye had it in ye!"

"Why, you pox-raddled villain," Spock replied calmly. "I _have_ read Shakespeare. It should be no surprise that I can speak Elizabethian English mixed with nautical expressions." The Vulcan's lips curved slightly. "Moreover, 'Since I hath dipp'd my Hands in muddy water and must be a Pyrate', I warrant I may prove a better one than ye."

"We'll see about that ye green-blooded sea-devil," McCoy growled, rising to the challenge. "And 'Damnation seize me soul if I give ye quarters'."

"But ye'll neither be dressed in more swag then me!" Kirk exclaimed.

It was enough of a twist to quote real pirates, but the competition extending to Spock and McCoy done up in theatrical pirate gear? Sam bit his cheeks trying to keep some semblance of a straight face.

Sulu leaned toward Chekhov. "This should be one interestin' party, matey."

Chekhov grinned in reply. "Arrr."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Written because near every jack tar o' those who reviewed the last chapter requested it._
> 
>  _Going on account - a phrase used to describe signing on as a pirate_
> 
>  _sprog = a raw recruit_
> 
>  _Spock quotes the infamous pirate Bartholomew Roberts (yes, there really was a Dread Pirate Roberts) and McCoy shoots back with a quote from Blackbeard._


	20. Devil in the Park

_Because everyone's only human, except for the ones who aren't_

 _  
_

* * *

As he began to come to, the first thing Giotto noticed was that he was not in his bed or even his quarters. That was seldom a good thing, especially when he wasn't sure of how or why he had wound up elsewhere, not to mention the fact that his head hurt enough to make returning to consciousness seem like a particularly bad idea. He remained still, pretending unconsciousness while listening to try to determine where he was. Sam sensed people nearby and the sound of monitoring equipment suggested some sort of medical facility. Definitely not a good thing.

"He ought to be coming around soon." McCoy's voice, so he was probably on the _Enterprise_.

"You might want to step back," Kirk's. There was a half-beat pause marking whatever look the doctor gave in reply before Kirk added "Just trust me."

Apparently he'd managed to teach the Captain a little caution in at least one area. Giotto opened his eyes. _Frak_. Lights. He closed them again.

A hypo hit his neck. "There, try it now."

This time he carefully cracked one eye before deciding it was safe to open both. "Thanks, Doc. Much better."

Denise looked down at him with an exasperated smile. "How long have you been faking? We were getting worried."

"Not long - just playing possum until I knew where I was." He smiled up at her and then at the doctor. "What happened?"

Concern crossed McCoy's professional expression. "What's the last thing you remember?"

He thought back. A flash of memory hit him and he sat up, looking around sickbay. No one else here - hopefully that was a good sign. "Where's the rest of my squad? Are they alright?"

"They're fine," Kirk put a hand on his shoulder. "But they were short of stunned when you went down. No one even fired when the crowd rushed them."

"Good." Giotto felt a swell of pride. There was hope for these kids yet. "They might have been surprised, but they followed orders. Were any of the Luperci hurt?"

"Nothing but the sort of injuries you'd expect in a brawl. They seemed to feel pretty badly about the whole thing," Kirk said. "In fact, they sent you a whole case of that weird liquor of theirs as a sort of peace offering."

Giotto just nodded reply and started to get up. The headache wasn't quite gone, but there were things to be done. Debriefing his squad was at the top of the list.

"Whoa there," McCoy pushed him back down. "You may be making as much a habit of having your brains knocked around as Jim has of getting choked, but that doesn't mean you can just shrug it off. Head injuries are tricky and you were out for awhile. I want to keep you a bit longer for observation."

"Whatever you say, Doc." Sam settled back on the bed, doing his best to look compliant.

McCoy grinned. "See, Jim, _that's_ how a patient ought to behave."

"Since I can't leave, could you have my squad come by?" Sam looked at him hopefully. "I'll feel better actually seeing that they're okay."

"Well, I don't see why not," Bones drawled falling into kindly country doctor mode.

Giotto smiled to himself. If you took the right approach, you could get away with almost anything.

"Sam," Denise warned. "Don't you dare play the 'Pop' card just so you can get back to work before you're supposed to. Besides, you _were_ out for awhile. Dan's already debriefed everyone."

He restrained a sigh. Anything, that is, provided that no one in the room knew you far too well. "Am I at least allowed to read the report?"

" _After_ I decide to let you." Mccoy crossed his arms, instantly back to surly Starfleet physician.

"I'll remember that a _good patient_ turns sickbay into a second office when he's stuck here," Kirk laughed. "The truth is, we're still not all that clear on exactly what happened. I mean, I know the Luperci are faster than humans, but no one seemed to have any idea how Bowlak got the drop on you."

That was surprising. Considering how many times he'd busted all of them either in sims or real life for doing something stupid, the last thing Sam expected was that anyone would cover for him. In a way it was strangely heart-warming. However, he wasn't above admitting to his own mistakes and he certainly wouldn't be setting much of an example if he didn't own up to them the way he expected everyone else to.

"The truth, Captain, is that I got worried about all of you being holed up with that 'ancient nemesis' and because I thought Bowlak was an ally, I made a rookie mistake..."

* * *

Cmdr. Giotto stood in front of his squad trying to project an attitude of calm that he didn't actually feel. The Captain, Spock and McCoy had been confined for several hours somewhere in the narrow canyon behind him with an entity that had apparently lured a number of the local inhabitants to their deaths. The creature (the universal translator rendered it 'ancient nemesis') was believed to have been hunted to extinction long ago, but (of course) their away team had somehow released a survivor from an extended hibernation during a tour of scenic park lands. Of course, they had volunteered to help capture it and of course (why wasn't he even surprised by this sort of thing anymore?) the ship's Captain, XO and CMO had wound up being trapped by it instead.

If it weren't for the Captain's cryptic orders to keep everyone away, Giotto would have gone in and extracted them hours ago. Instead, he was stuck trying to keep the locals from going in to do it for him. Sam surveyed his people. They were anxious and if he could see it, the crowd in front of them could certainly smell it. The Luperci had evolved from caninoids and despite their highly civilized and well-order society, their appearance played on every image of werewolves lurking in the human subconscious. Right now, the fact that they were agitated didn't help at all in resisting that impression.

Giotto looked across at Bowlak, his counterpart in charge of the local militia. It took no great skill to see that he was also tense. He had a right to be. Two members of his militia had died so far. Responding to aliens based on human assumptions was almost always a mistake and the two species had not had time to figure each other out yet, but some commonalities did exist. Last night Bowlak had invite Sam for a drink a toast to the lost and although the drinks had had a strange tang to human taste, they had been offered in acknowledgment of a sort of kinship between them as 'pack leaders' of their respective forces.

From what he had seen so far, Giotto secretly hoped the Luperci would be fast-tracked to join the Federation because he'd dearly love to partner them with human security squads. They seemed to have a natural sense of teamwork and loyalty was a deeply held value. Although humans were larger and had superior endurance and eyesight, Luperci were faster with far better hearing and sense of smell. With the right training, each could use their advantages to compensate for what the other lacked to produce a truly formidable team. Of course, that would, as always, depend on each side getting past initial fears and prejudices. Unfortunately, this situation didn't look likely to help the matter.

Someone in the crowd snarled a demand to be let through and others waved makeshift clubs in agreement. Bowlak barked a command to maintain order, showing his fangs with the sort of attitude a human would put into a forbidding glare. Giotto could see some of his people nervously reaching for their phasers.

"No weapons," he reminded them tersely. Even if their phasers hadn't been modified to affect the creature, he wouldn't risk using them here. Sam could think of no example in history when an armed group of outsiders firing into a largely civilian crowd had ever turned out well, particularly in the long term. No matter what, he would _not_ see the prospect of a peaceful alliance with a new world sabotaged by that sort of mistake.

However, he was becoming increasingly concerned about what other decisions might cost. Kirk should have comm'ed with an update by now. Giotto had yet to disobey a direct order from his Captain, but this was beginning to push his limits.

On top of that, the crowd was becoming increasingly ugly. There was a chorus of angry growls and Sam felt the hair on the back on of his neck stand on end. Bowlak turned toward him, his fur bristling and Giotto knew he sensed it too - that indefinable moment, recognizable to anyone in any security force anywhere, when a hostile crowd turned into an angry mob.

Now would be a _really_ good time for Kirk to pull another miracle out of his hat and come strolling out with the creature tame and subdued. Instead, a breeze blew out of the canyon carrying some scent Sam couldn't detect, but the Luperci clearly could. The crowd stilled momentarily as nostrils flared and ears perked forward. Something electric seemed to move through them, transforming the mob into a unified pack.

Giotto braced, ready to order his squad to hold the line, when Bowlak pointed. "Look! Here they come."

* * *

"...and like an idiot, I looked." Sam grimaced at his own culpability. "You probably know what happened next better than I do."

"Yeah, Bowlak clocked you with his riot baton." Kirk was trying to hold back a grin. "I can't _believe_ you of all people fell for that, Chief. Almost makes me wonder if I'm not in some alternate universe again."

"Don't be such a smartass, Jim," McCoy scolded. " _You_ got us lured into that canyon and I _told_ you we were past due for check-in."

"It's okay, Doc." Giotto shook his head. " _I_ 'm the one who let my guard down and I take full responsibility. I just hope it didn't put you in a bad position."

"Not too bad – Spock kind of stared them down until they got a grip. Once they came to their senses, everyone was really apologetic. Their leader even did this thing about exposing his throat to me," the Captain explained. "Uhura said it was basically their version of a _mea culpa_ which actually made ironing out an understanding about that park-critter easier. But I swear for a moment there Bowlak actually seemed surprised when I didn't bite him or something." Kirk shook his head. "I guess it's going to take a little more time for us to work out the interspecies differences."

Very true and quite possibly an understatement. It was a mistake to apply human understandings to an alien race, but though the Luperci had only the vaguest resemblance to earth canines there were obvious similarities in responses and body language. Right before everything went black, Sam had looked back and caught the expression on Bowlak's face. He could swear the look was the same one he remembered seeing on the dog he'd had as a kid. The one that said:

 _'SQUIRREL!_ '

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _AN: Yeah, I don't know what my muse has been smoking lately either._
> 
>  _Seriously,_ **DarkEidolon** _had asked me to do a reboot of_ Devil of in the Dark _because Giotto surprisingly falls for the 'Look, here they come!' line in that one. I have a strong feeling that Spock Prime would have given someone a heads up to make sure the Horta's babies weren't destroyed, but I figured I could rewrite it using a different monster. Enter my uppity neighborhood squirrels. No, they aren't deadly, but they do seem to be trying to deliberately tease the dogs into taking a header into the fence. Considering that recently they've also taken to not only filching my sweet corn, but actually throwing things at me from the trees when I interrupt their thievery, I've decided my greyhounds are right: squirrels are basically Satan's minions with cute furry tails._


	21. This Side of Paradise

_Because it was not the apple on the tree but the pair on the ground that caused the trouble in paradise_

 _  
_

* * *

The Captain handed the PADD back to Giotto. "So has security gotten all of those plants off the ship now?"

"Almost all, sir."

"Almost?" A concerned look crossed the Captain's face.

"All except for those placed in stasis for future study. Despite their other effects their healing capacity is remarkable." Giotto smiled. The happiness the spores had given had been illusory, but _this_ was real. "The Doctor says Margolis shows no sign whatsoever of her previous condition."

"Well, I suppose that's worth a little mutiny." Kirk gave him a half-grin. "I only wish that she'd stop avoiding Riley. Seeing him go from elation to borderline depression is rough." He gave Sam a pleading look. "I don't suppose you could talk to her?"

"I'm _not_ the person to be giving that sort of talk, Captain." Starfleet wasn't paying him to be a relationship counselor, which in Giotto's opinion was a very good thing. "However if you are concerned about Mr. Riley, you might tell him that Kathy probably just needs some time and space to readjust to having her life back and to get over any embarrassment about succumbing to the spores' influence."

"I guess she's not alone in that," Kirk sighed. They'd both seen Scotty nearly break down in tears when he'd come back on board and realized that he'd shut down his beloved engines before abandoning ship. Spore-induced euphoria had also lead to some other indiscretions that people were going to have to work through, but on the whole it wasn't as bad as the Psi2000 virus had been.

"Just give everyone a little time, sir. There are people who may be awkward around each other for a bit, but we've been through worse." Giotto stood, tucked the PADD under his arm and waited patiently for the Captain to remember that he was supposed to say or signal 'dismissed'.

Kirk just looked at him. "You're okay, right? I mean, when I found you, you and Marshall were… "

"Picking apples, sir," Giotto finished with a carefully blank expression. In fact, Denise had been sitting on his shoulders picking apples and then dropping them down to see how many he could catch and still keep juggling. Not, perhaps, his most dignified moment, but had the Captain shown up a half hour earlier the situation would have been considerably more embarrassing.

"Picking apples," Kirk repeated slowly.

Giotto looked him right in the forehead. "Yes, sir."

He might not have been terribly concerned about privacy while blissed-out on spores, but he had wanted Denise to himself and had taken her a fairly remote area to show her the plants. As far as he knew, Kirk was the only person who had seen them together at all and if he was on a fishing expedition, Sam saw no reason to bite.

The Captain looked at him a little sideways. "You were both kind of wet."

"A bit earlier, Lt. Marshall had fallen into the pond." Deliberately, and had pulled him in with her. Denise had been very set on skinny-dipping, although it hadn't _technically_ been skinny-dipping until they'd managed to strip off their clothes. "Naturally, I attempted to assist her."

"Naturally," Kirk pursed his lips. "You just seemed unusually …playful."

"I _am_ still capable of playing, sir." Giotto straightened slightly. "However, the spores did inspire a degree of ...light-heartedness that I admit was outside the norm." And it was time to change the subject. "All things considered, I was quite surprised when I had to break up a fight. How did you discover that strong negative feelings counteracted the spores' effect?"

"That was Uhura actually. I had followed her down to try and talk her into restoring communications with Starfleet, so I was there when she came across Spock and Leila Kalomi."

Ah. That would also explain why Spock had been all but living in his lab for the past day or so.

"Bones says you have to expect that those spores would have a little different effect on a Vulcan, so she'll probably forgive him eventually. I mean, Spock _had_ to have been _totally_ _stoned_. He actually invited Uhura to join them, and they were, you know," Kirk sucked his cheeks in, restraining a sly grin. "Picking apples."

Busted. Sam cleared his throat slightly. "Apples do seem to have a certain history where paradise is concerned."

"Yeah," Kirk pulled an apple out of his desk drawer and considered it. "But the way I figure it, perpetual happiness probably got so boring that Adam decided to eat that apple just to shake things up a bit."

Giotto smiled to himself. It was certainly something he could picture Kirk doing, particularly if the apple was proffered by a naked woman. Not that he was, at the moment, in any position to judge. "If you say so, Captain."

"I do, Chief." The Captain smiled, blue eyes sparkling. "In fact, this side of paradise, I'd say apples are still one of the best things we've got going." He tossed the apple to Sam and signaled 'dismissed'.

...

Kirk watched the door close behind his Security Chief. A taste of paradise hadn't worked out so well for Riley, but Giotto had carefully avoided saying how it had affected him or even quite admitting to any effect at all. Still, when Jim had found him with Denise under that tree he'd rarely seen a couple who had so obviously been ... _picking apples_. He grinned as he pulled another one out of his drawer and took a big juicy bite.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In the TOS episode_ This Side of Paradise, _Leila Kalomi zaps Spock with spores to get him to love her. This started as an idea for a stand alone about how Uhura might react to that scenario in the new timeline. But then I went to the farmer's market and Jim followed me around the apple barrels, insisting that as much fun as it would be to have Uhura belt him for just being in the vicinity at the time, this was really the perfect opportunity for him to catch something going on between Sam and Denise. Since I'm driving him crazy trying to figure out who Bones is seeing in a different fic, I figured I owed him.  
> _
> 
>  _Btw, the episode title comes from a line in a poem by Rupert Brooke where the poet is wooing a lover by making the case that since we'll all be dissolved into blissful Oneness in heaven, we ought to enjoy the benefits of two-ness here._


	22. On the Job Training

>

 _Because field experience is something you don't get until just after you need it._

 _  
_

* * *

Lt. Cmdr. Jenkins diverted the blade aimed at his gut and slammed a low kick into the side of his attacker's knee. He almost winced in sympathy as the man crumbled in agony. He'd just finally recovered from a similar injury himself. But he couldn't spare time for such thoughts; he followed through with a strike to the head (that at least put the man out of his misery) and quickly scanned his position. No one else was coming at him but McCoy was in trouble. Dan rushed to help just as the doctor managed to throw the thug threatening him with a knife.

Jenkins breathed relief. It looked like Jessy had managed to teach McCoy something after all. (Technically he wasn't supposed to know about that, but his CO was a reasonably honest man when it came to bets even if he had waited until Dan had halfway guessed the truth on his own). The doctor was still looking at his downed assailant as though in shock that the move had actually worked.

"Nice job, Doc."

"Thanks," McCoy looked up with a half-smile. "Anyone injured?"

Jenkins glanced around. The rest of the party looked shaken, but okay. "Just these guys," he said nodding at their attackers. They were dressed like some cross between ninjas and headhunters, but their fighting skills hadn't been much above your average street gang. If the Captain hadn't been absent from their rendezvous point, he'd be tempted to think that they were just a gang who'd wrongly figured off-worlders for easy targets. "I think we better keep moving."

They had just turned to go when the prone man groaned. McCoy instantly pulled his med kit and knelt to examine him. Dan wasn't sure what it was – maybe that 'awareness' Giotto was constantly trying to get him to foster – but he just _knew_. Diving down he shoved the doctor back with one hand while bringing the other arm up in a block as the man rolled and stabbed. He hadn't been quite fast enough. McCoy was safe, but the knife sliced his forearm to the bone. Jenkins channeled the pain into bringing his other fist around hard enough knock the man cold. Or maybe a little too hard - based on the angle of the guy's jaw, when he came to he probably wasn't going to be able to tell anyone what had happened.

Dan fell back on his haunches, taking a shaky breath as reaction set in. McCoy was there instantly, numbing the area and applying clotting factor to the wound.

"This should hold until we can get you to the ship," the doctor said, pasting on a field bandage. "Try not to use that arm. The bone's chipped and it's going to take enough work to set you straight as it is."

Frak. And he'd just gotten off the injured list. Phil was never going to let him live this down and it would probably be a month before he could convince the Chief to put him back on the roster for away missions. He scowled at the doctor. "You're welcome."

"You're right, I owe you one," the doctor grunted. "Now let's find Jim."

Jenkins flipped open his communicator. "Jenkins to Capt. Kirk _."_ Not even static. He switched codes. "Jenkins to _Enterprise_." Nothing. He tapped the device in frustration. "Come in _Enterprise_."

Chekhov pulled out his tricorder. "Zhere is interference – a Flannigan field."

"Can you find its origin?"

"Da, I know zhis sort ov field," Chekhov replied confidently. "It vas inwented in Russia."

Uh-huh, because Flannigan was such a quintessentially Russian name. Jenkins resisted rolling his eyes and let the kid work.

"Zhere." Chekhov pointed toward a small building a short distance away.

"All right, they're probably expecting their guys back soon, so let's make this quick. We'll circle around to the back. Doctor, you stay at the rear. I'll take point."

"Hold on," McCoy objected. "You're injured."

"We hold the same rank, Doctor. If you want to take command for this, just say so." Jenkins leveled his best imitation of Giotto's don't-be-an-idiot stare.

McCoy glared a moment, but relented. Dan had a feeling he was going to pay for that, but he wasn't leaving a doctor, a navigator, or a wet-behind-the-ears ensign in charge of finding and rescuing the Captain. He'd been hurt a lot worse on his last away mission and gotten everyone back safe anyway. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could almost hear Giotto telling him not to get cocky and briefly wondered if the Chief still had some version of _his_ first CO spouting advice in his head.

As they approached the building, he halted beside the back wall. "Life signs, Mr. Chekhov?"

"Da, sewen."

"Figures Jim would wind up held in an old liquor store," McCoy grumbled. "Man gets in trouble every time he's just in _proximity_ to a bunch of booze."

A careful circuit of windows showed the backroom was empty, but four goons stood outside the office with two more inside with the Captain, who was tied to a chair and looking pretty bad. Just to top things off, the one threatening the Captain with a blade was dressed in the uniform of the local militia - so much for their peaceful, routine supply mission. Now would be a good time to have a phaser, but the local government had banned energy weapons.

"How far does that field extend Mr. Chekhov?"

"5.6 kilometers."

"I don't suppose anyone here is a champion marathon runner?" Jenkins looked at them hopefully, getting only head shakes in return.

No. That was too much to hope for and Dan's best time on a 5K was 21 minutes, which with the Captain in immediate danger would be too long to get outside the perimeter to call for help. So, it was six thugs, probably armed, versus Jenkins, a doctor, a 17-year-old navigator and an ensign fresh out of the Academy - all of them with no weapons beyond the small knife Dan kept in his boot and whatever sedatives the doctor had in his medkit. Awesome. If they got of this, the Chief would probably use the report as fodder for a new sim.

Jenkins thought about that. Giotto had once told him that nearly all of those sims were based on real experiences, and Dan had seen every one of them a dozen times. He knew where all the Easter eggs were hidden. Where were they in this scenario? _Use the resources in front of you. Anything can be a weapon in the right hands_. There was a store full of liquor, but he doubted he could waltz in and challenge them to a drinking contest. His eyes strayed to the trash in the alley …on the other hand maybe he could.

Dan took out his boot knife. "Hobbs, how's your accuracy?"

"Good, sir, but you can keep that." He pulled a knife from his own boot.

Jenkins smiled. Hobbs had potential. "Excellent. Once I have the rest distracted, bust the window and take out that militiaman. Chekhov, you pull the Captain out. Hobbs can handle the second guy at least long enough for the Doctor to hit him with a sedative." Dan stripped off his uniform tunic and donned a trashed shirt from the alleyway refuse. He almost choked on his next breath – man did it stink.

"Now just wait a minute," McCoy frowned. "Are you planning on just walking into that lions' den, Daniel? You just admitted that that arm's a problem."

"Trust me, Doc, I've run the Chief's sims with one hand literally tied behind my back. I'll be fine." Or at least odds were he'd survive, but if there was anything he'd learned from his CO is was when and how to lie with confidence. Jenkins looked them each in the eye. "No matter what else happens, your job is to get the Captain and get out. Understood?"

Chekhov and Hobbs nodded. After a moment the doctor gave a grudging assent.

"Good." Jenkins picked up a half-empty bottle marked 'Wrigley's Ion-glow'- nasty stuff, but it wouldn't take much to make him smell like he had a vested interest in liquor stores. He splashed a portion of the contents around his neck and face. "With any luck I'll have the generator out of commission by the time you've got the Captain, so we can call for emergency beam out."

McCoy scowled. "If you go in there playin' homeless wino, what's to keep them from just killin' you straight off?"

"Quicker reflexes than they'll expect from a wino, for one." Dan grinned. "And they aren't going to expect it to be raining…"

.

Jenkins rattled the doors and pounded, calling drunkenly until one of the thugs inside decided to try to chase him away. As soon as the door started to open, Dan leaned against it and then fell inward, sprawling across the surprised, and once he got a whiff, disgusted goon.

"We're closed," the guy barked, trying to push Dan away.

Jenkins held on making it look like he was trying to get his legs under him, and used his weight to spin them both until he was through the door. "Doorsh open," he slurred.

A second goon came over and Jenkins let the first push him toward that one. "Get rid of him."

Dan staggered to the side just the guy reached for him and fell back against the check out counter. "Hey, I jush need anozzer drink." He waved the mostly empty bottle and looked around hopefully. There – right behind the counter where it should be.

The second guy moved toward him and he could see the other three, standing well back from the stench and snickering at the one stuck with handling the smelly wino. "You've had your last drink," the thug growled.

"Jush one _more_ " Jenkins brought the bottle down hard across the guy's head and threw himself over the counter, hitting the control marked 'Emergency –Fire'. An alarm blared and heavy-duty sprinklers began pouring water from the ceiling. That should be diversion enough to let the rest bust in and grab the Captain. With any luck, the downpour would also short the field generator soon and someone could call for beam out.

Jenkins ducked as a knife flew past him and threw his own left-handed at the three trying to rush him. He missed, of course, but one dodged and slipped on the water-slick tiles, crashing into a display. Alcohol and broken glass added to the mess on the floor, slowing his opponents more.

Now would be good time for an exit. Dan pulled himself around the counter toward the door, careful not to slip too. One of the thugs reached into his coat, pulling out a revolver. Damn. Energy weapons were banned, but that didn't preclude projectile weapons. Jenkins made a mental note to replicate a Glock next time he ran into that rule. He threw a bottle from the counter display, hoping to at least make the man duck before he could fire. A bullet hit the wall beside his head. Crap. He was going to have to work on being more ambidextrous.

There were sirens coming. As long as the others were out, they were safe. Dan started to raise his hands.

The office door opened. "Dan?" McCoy looked out.

The gunman swung the gun toward the doctor. _Frak_. Jenkins tackled him, sending the shot wide and bringing them both down into field of broken glass. He could feel shards cut into his back as they rolled, struggling for control of the gun. Pain shot through his injured arm and then Chekhov was yelling something and the transporter beam took them.

Dan had to smile when his opponent suddenly found himself on a transporter pad with two phasers pointed at his head. Sims and Biales hauled the guy away, probably a little more roughly than strictly necessary. He could see Hobbs and Chekhov half-carrying the Captain to a stretcher with the doctor close behind.

Phil looked down at him and shook his head. "Jeez, Dan, you're a mess."

Giotto started to help him up and made a face. "You _could_ use a shower, Mr. Jenkins - with soap this time." He looked at the blood darkening the water on the transporter pad and the growing stain on Dan's sleeve where the field bandage had torn during the fight. "After we get you patched up, I think."

"Get that shirt of him first – damn thing's practically held together with germs," McCoy ordered, returning with orderlies and another stretcher. "Jim'll be fine. He's dazed, but I've seen him in worse shape. It's nothing Chapel can't handle. _You_ ," he pointed at Dan, "weren't supposed to use that arm."

"I guess I _could_ have let the guy shoot you," Jenkins snarked.

"I thought he _had_ shot you," McCoy widened his eyes. "Now, shut up and put pressure on that. I'm going to go tell everyone in sickbay to take a deep breath before you get there."

Dan stared speechless after the doctor as Phil and Giotto helped him onto the stretcher.

"You did say you wanted more field experience," Giotto reminded him wryly. "Consider that a valuable lesson. Never expect a doctor to follow orders if he thinks someone's injured." The Chief put a hand on his shoulder. "After you're cleaned up, you can come by my office for a drink. You may want one. I suspect you're also about to learn why it's a bad idea to call a doctor on that sort of thing afterward."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Dark Eidolon** shared a story about a friend who made the mistake of checking on a downed attacker and asked if I could work it into a story. It took longer than expected, but here it is. Jenkins is Giotto's second in command and often helps run training sim along with Lt. Phil Groesner. Phil got beat up a bit too when he got his own chapter in the first set of Giotto stories. That Dan and Giotto had a bet on who Jessy was interested in is also mentioned in Vol. I.  
> _


	23. Who Mourns Taranis?

_Because your god-complex does not obligate anyone else to worship_

 _  
_

* * *

Giotto stalked through the temple grounds pointedly ignoring the special effects. God-like beings - God, how he hated god-like beings! Unfortunately, the universe seemed to be lousy with them and whenever they ran into one his Captain couldn't seem to resist metaphorically poking it with a pointy stick.

"This is your fault, Samuel." A taunting voice echoed around him.

Granted, this god-like being hadn't responded so well to Giotto's own brand agnosticism, which might acknowledge greater power, but _not_ superiority, particularly when it came to beings that only proved the old adage about power corrupting.

"Hubris, Samuel," the voice said. "That got Ulysses in trouble."

"Greco-Roman – not your pantheon," Sam shot back.

"A few Romans worshiped me. Your ancestors were much more practical. They would have given me what I wanted."

"I wouldn't sacrifice a half-dead goat to you, let alone a fellow officer." Since it kept trying to sneak peaks into his head, Giotto thought very hard about the idea that if this _thing_ was this weak back then, ambitious Romans might have hacked him apart in the hopes of being elevated to godhood, or at least of convincing a bunch of barbarians to treat them like gods.

"I made a _place_ for the souls of those who would _think_ such things," the voice hissed.

" _Someone_ might send me there, but it won't be _you_. You want a crack at my soul? Manifest!" Giotto hefted a long ceremonial knife still dripping with ichors. "Or are you afraid to now that I know you're vulnerable in physical form?"

"A warrior should serve Taranis, but you betrayed me," the voice accused. "I offered you power and you did not even have to spill human blood."

"Spock is half-human."

"Your people once gladly sacrificed full-humans, especially those from another tribe."

"My people have changed a lot in the past couple millennia. A deity worth worshiping would approve of that." Just once he'd like to meet god-like aliens who had visited ancient earth and were actually happy to see that human society had matured beyond cringing obeisance to their every whim. Even pseudo-gods who treated them like moderately competent children instead of pets or cattle would be nice for a change.

"Restore me and I will show you worth. Make a sacrifice and I will share the power of the blood. I can give you youth, strength, vitality – _forever_. "

"Yeah," Giotto scoffed. "Because 'forever' has turned out so well for you, you useless wraith."

The ground shook. Taranis seemed too drained to throw lightning bolts now, but he was still dangerous. Sam had a chance in direct confrontation so long as he had the ritual knife, which seemed to be some sort of object of power, but he'd seen Taranis knock Spock halfway across the complex. There was a reasonably good chance he wasn't going to survive this. He only hoped that if he could free the others, someone would explain to the Captain that Giotto hadn't actually betrayed him. You didn't confront something like this head-on and you certainly didn't sway it with impassioned speeches about the human need for freedom. Knocking Kirk out had not only made Sam's 'conversion' look real, it had kept the Captain from annoying Taranis into mustering another thunderbolt.

Giotto dodged out of the way of a falling pillar. "Good – destroy your own temple. That's bright." He put as much sarcasm in his tone as it could hold, hoping to goad the egomaniac into attacking in physical form.

A fissure opened with the next tremor and Giotto just barely avoided falling in. The god-like being wasn't showing himself, but he definitely hadn't cared for that. Hmm. When Scotty had refused to burn Sulu in a wicker man, there had been thunder and pyrotechnics. But when Scotty had been stuffed in too, he'd yelled 'No one's gonna light us ya daft bugger!' and the ground had shaken. Maybe it wasn't just displeasure. Maybe mockery hurt…

Giotto jogged around the fissure and laughed. "You've got to be the sorriest excuse for a god I've ever heard of."

" _I am Taranis – more powerful than that weak god you were taught!"_ The ground shook, sending more pillars to ruin.

Giotto smiled. He seemed to have hit a nerve. "Funny thing: that weak God I was taught never needed me to spill anyone's blood to keep him going. In fact, in theory, the sacrifice kind of went the other way." He casually hacked at the nearest idols as he continued toward the central hill. "Of course, I'm not exactly among the faithful there, but as far as I'm concerned it does put Him head and shoulders above a _loser like you_."

Trees crashed in the sacred grove. Excellent.

"You know, you're not so much a deity as a pathetic vampire. But it's not actual blood you need, is it? It's some sort of psychic energy." Spock had been right about that and with luck had been right about the rest too. "You need someone to be _willing_ to shed blood for you. It doesn't matter if it's out of awe or ambition or old-fashioned fear, as they long as they agree to serve you."

The sky darkened _. "You_ _will_ _serve!"_

"Guess what?" Giotto made a rude gesture, one probably not in vogue when Taranis last visited earth, but it got the point across. " _Not_ going to happen."

A weak bolt of lightning hit the ground nearby.

"You missed," Sam laughed. "Shouldn't a 'god' have better aim?"

" _Y_ _ou are my chosen priest. I withhold my wrath that you may redeem yourself."_

Yeah, right. Giotto could see the central pillar now. This time Kirk was tied to it. "Oh, believe me, I intend to. Why don't you manifest so I can show you?"

Kirk began to struggle as he saw Giotto coming toward him with the knife. "Sam, remember who you are. Don't –"

"It's okay, Captain. I'm getting you out of here." He began to cut the ropes.

"Stop! There's still time. _Sacrifice and I will make you a god_!" the voice roared.

Giotto spun around as the ropes came free. "Show yourself and I'll make you an ex-god!"

Kirk shook his arms. "Chief, get out of here. You can't fight that thing."

"Actually, sir, I think I can." Giotto looked him in the eye. "And it would really help if you _believed_ that. In fact, if you get close to that wheel symbol he's so fond of and laugh to derision the very idea that he's got a chance against me, even if he won't come out and fight, we may be able to weaken him enough to get through to the ship."

"Fools!" Taranis thundered. "Mere mortals cannot harm me."

"Yeah?" Kirk sauntered toward the wheel, an irreverent grin spreading across his face. "Then why are you hiding? Pretty lame excuse for a god if you ask me - afraid to face one mortal."

Sam braced himself against the pillar and Kirk grabbed the wheel as the whole complex trembled.

" _I fear no one!"_

Giotto adjusted his grip on the knife. "Come down here and say that."

The next tremor was weaker, but accompanied by a cold wind. "You cannot command me," Taranis replied petulantly.

Kirk laughed. "Hey, I don't blame you for being scared, dude." He smirked and crossed his arms, lounging against Taranis' sky wheel like a street punk leaning on a light post. "I wouldn't fight him when he's in that mood either. You wouldn't stand a chance. I mean, I bet the real reason you left earth was because some skinny monk showed up and totally _kicked your ass_."

" _You will be silent!_ " The form of the pseudo-god materialized in front of Kirk, hands raised ready to strangle him.

Giotto leaped to close the distance, driving the long knife through its neck and slicing outward to nearly severe it. Kirk grabbed a piece of broken pillar, slamming it down on the being's head as it fell. The sky went black and wind howled through the temple as Taranis faded away. "I would have made you a god…" echoed plaintively around the barren stones.

Kirk dusted his hands off. "I guess 'There can be only One'."

Sam just looked at him. He'd been trying for what seemed like forever to provoke the thing into manifesting and Kirk had driven it to blind rage in about two minutes.

"Sorry, Chief," the Captain grinned. "I've just always wanted an excuse to use that line."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I started a reboot of_ _'_ Who Mourns Adonais?' _but you kind of feel sorry for Apollo at the end of that one and Giotto has a pretty low tolerance for powerful aliens playing at godhood, so I wanted one he could be really rude to. The Roman poet Lucien named Taranis as a god to whom the Gauls offered grisly human sacrifice. In the TOS episode, Kirk tells Apollo_ _"Mankind has no need for gods; we find the One quite adequate._ "


	24. Messages from Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Messages from Home**

**Messages from Home**

 _Because it good to be remembered_

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* * *

It was the day after Federation Day, one of Giotto's favorite days of the year. He stood near the comm station trying not to look like he was hovering. "Has the transmission arrived yet, Lieutenant?"

"It's just coming through now, sir." Lt. Uhura looked up at him, hand to her earpiece and an amused twinkle in the eye. "Should I be filtering for encrypted information? You seem awfully eager for a big package of random messages."

"That won't be necessary. Just let me know when the transmission's complete."

He returned to the tactical station. Like most of this young crew that hadn't yet spent even a year in deep space, Uhura didn't understand. Yet. By next year or the year after, she'd be shuffling comm capacity to accommodate all the people queued to get a look at this yearly flood of good will from complete strangers. There would be small groups gathering to go through the messages together, especially the ones from children. School kids all over made this a project every year and, despite the fact that this was an assignment for them, a remarkable number of their messages were clearly heartfelt and/or incredibly amusing. Efficiency would suffer for a couple days, but morale would soar. He'd already given Dan a heads up that there would be a board for people to post and vote on the best ones (but that he had better not catch anyone laying bets on the winners).

It wasn't that they were lonely or homesick out here like soldiers or sailors of old. They had interesting work, busy schedules, and nearly everyone got regular subspace transmissions from family or friends (some of them probably even wished that they had the excuse of irregular deliveries of bags of paper letters to avoid too much contact from worried parents). But in some way he couldn't exactly define this reminder that the rest of the Federation knew they were out here and cared was particularly special.

Giotto sent a quick text to Hanlan. Jessy understood, having served in a dirtside force before entering Starfleet, and she'd already asked for first dibs on the sector of messages from kids around the age of Dr. McCoy's daughter. There were always a few crew members who received little or no communication from home and this tradition of sending messages of support to 'any soldier' dated back centuries to an initiative to support those personnel. Starfleet still maintained the tradition of giving those crew members the first look. Sam scanned the list from his department, while tapping his stylus on the edge of the PADD.

"Mr. Giotto," Kirk said with a grin. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were fidgeting."

"Fidgeting?" Spock asked. Giotto looked over to see an eyebrow inclined at that accusation coming from their Captain, who frequently gave the impression that there was nothing he couldn't do, except sit still.

"Yes, Mr. Spock, fidgeting." The Captain's grin grew. "It's something we humans do when we're nervous or impatient."

Kirk was clearly enjoying this, not that he didn't have a right to. Giotto had personally run him through some pretty grueling combat sims meant to reinforce the virtues of patience and restraint. Tricking him into signing up for that had become a necessity after the third time the Captain had nearly gotten himself killed on an away mission, but he was certain Kirk had also seen the supposedly clandestine cartoons depicting the two of them as Luke and Yoda.

"I am aware of the definition of fidgeting, Captain," Spock replied stiffly. "I simply do not comprehend how it applies to Mr. Giotto's present behavior."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock." Giotto nodded in his direction. "I will however admit to expressing a degree of anticipation."

"Vhy are you anticipating?" Chekhov asked. "Zhey are letters from people ve are not knowing."

"Yes," Sam agreed. "They are, and it's because they take the time to write even though they don't know us, that I'm looking forward to seeing what they've sent. There are always a few that leave you smiling."

Sulu turned in his chair. "Alright, Chief, I'll bite. Such as?"

Giotto had expected the question. He tapped a icon on his PADD and handed it to Sulu with a small grin.

The helmsman looked puzzled for an instant, but as his eyes scanned the message, a smile grew until he laughed. "Oh, that's cute."

"Well, don't hog the cute," Kirk scolded. "I assume that's to share, Chief?"

"That is, in a sense, the point sir." He retrieved the PADD and handed it to the Captain.

A grin flashed across Kirk's face as he read. "What was that about hogging, Captain?" Uhura prodded.

"Okay," he held the PADD up, turning his command chair so everyone could get a look of brightly colored dinosaurs obviously sketched by a grade school artist. "The accompanying note says: Dear Starfleet Officer, My daughter drew you dinosaurs for her letter because her little brother wants to be in Starfleet when he grows up and since he loves dinosaurs, by inarguable 7-yr-old logic, she concluded that you, already being in Starfleet, must therefore also love dinosaurs. We hope you enjoy them. Stay safe, our thoughts and prayers are with you. Sincerely, Ms. C. Loudon."

Uhura beamed. "That's not cute - that's adorable."

"I am agreeing," Chekhov nodded.

"And you, Mr. Spock?" Kirk asked, eyebrows raised. "Don't tell me you have no comment on that application of logic?"

"It represents a generalization, which should be considered a logical fallacy." Spock straightened slightly, a small upward curved showing on his lips. "However, I personally have always found dinosaurs to be fascinating."

The Captain slapped the arm of his chair laughing. "Well, if any of these can get my XO to crack a joke, I can't wait to see them."

"Transmission complete," Uhura reported and flashed a smile. "Dibs on the 3rd graders - most kids are just starting to really understand how to use language at that age."

"No way - I was going to call 3rd grade!" Kirk teased.

"I promise you there will be enough to go around," Giotto interjected. "But the people who don't hear much from home get first look. I'd suggest you find them and volunteer to help them sort the letters - after Alpha shift is over, of course." He took the data card from Uhura and headed to the lift with a smile.

There was a collective pause until the lift doors closed behind the Security Chief. Then Kirk bounded from his chair to Uhura's station. "You have a back-up copy, right?"

She grinned. "Of course, sir."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's crack that puppy open!"

* * *

 _AN: I began this back on the 4th of July and finally decided I had finish it for Veteran's Day. Dedicated to K. T. who ship out this weekend._

 _Please r &r, but more importantly, consider writing a thank you to a soldier for Thanksgiving._


	25. Team Building

_Because teamwork is important_

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* * *

Giotto leaned back in his shuttle seat feeling quietly grateful that the doctor had chosen to sit next to the Captain. Judging by McCoy's color there was a better than even chance that Kirk might end up wearing the rest of the doctor's breakfast before they docked. Not that he blamed him for being nauseous. Sam had never had any difficulty with shuttle travel, but the prospect of a weekend of 'team building' was not doing wonders for his digestion.

Given that he actively trained his people to work as teams, they'd be surprised to know that he viewed this exercise with quite such a jaundiced eye. However over the course of a few decades in Starfleet, Giotto had lived through a number of well-intentioned but frequently terribly misguided programs initiated when Command periodically gave in to trying the latest civilian 'team building' fad. Having endured a variety of contrived bonding situations the prospect of being subjected to another set of them only tended to increase his natural bent toward cynicism. If McCoy hadn't complained loudly and at length about being forced into this, Sam would have wondered if he wasn't just getting too old for this felgercarb. He would of course cooperate to the degree that it made sense to do so, but in his opinion, if facing death together on several occasions hadn't created a bond among the _Enterprise_ 's command team by now, no weekend full of stupid training games was going to do it.

Not that any of them had a say in the matter. The last time the _Enterprise_ had transported an upper echelon civilian a number of things had gone awry – not seriously, at least not compared to a lot of the things Giotto had been through on this ship, but apparently enough to rattle a pampered executive used to sitting in a dirtside office. Granted, answering a distress call from an unidentified vessel hadn't exactly gone by the book, but when did it ever? Yes, the Captain's shirt had been shredded a bit more than usual and Spock and McCoy had both wound up coated in some sort of ectoplasmic goo, leading the doctor to roundly cuss Kirk out for dragging him along, but everything had been resolved in short order with no casualties (other than another gold uniform tunic).

Unfortunately their horrified passenger had more influence than basic sense (what sort of sheltered idiot was shocked by rough language on a 'fleet vessel?) and filed a long complaint that included the word 'dysfunctional' in reference to the command team. Adm. Pike had apologized in nearly the same breath as issuing the orders, but the man had connections so Starfleet had to show that they were acting on the complaint.

Nevertheless, Giotto was trying to take it all with good grace. Since their destination was a camp setting at least he could enjoy the 'survival challenge' exercises and maybe strategically lose track of time on a hike to avoid the stupid-personal-questions 'getting to know each other' sessions.

"We're almost there everyone!" Mr. Carleton ('Call me Chip!'), the far too perky civilian assigned to facilitate, emerged from the forward compartment. "As long as we're waiting to land, let's get a jump start by having a little ice breaker! Something simple: if you were an actor, what would your stage name be?"

"I'm gonna throw up," McCoy groaned.

"Well, that's …different," Chip observed. "Anyone else?"

The doctor made a wet choking noise and Kirk put a hand on his friend's back while giving Chip a hard look. "Deep breaths Bones."

"Okay-ay," Chip continued. "Maybe we should try something more traditional. How about we share our middle names and where they came from?"

There was an extended silence as the officers with middle names Tiberius, Horatio, Bartholomew and Archibald exchanged looks.

"Alright," Chip continued unfazed. "I'll start. My middle name is Taylor which was my mother's maiden name. Who's next?"

Leonard H. leaned toward Samuel B. and whispered through clenched teeth. "Lure over him here so I can hurl on him, Sam."

Carleton quickly stepped toward the far side of the aisle. "Mr. Spock, what's your middle name?"

"Vulcans do not have middle names, Mr. Carleton." Spock stated in the tone of a professor who had found a student's research to be woefully inadequate. "Nor do we engage in illogical exercises such as speculating on 'stage names', which incidentally, Vulcans also do not use. Perhaps you would be more successful if you were to focus your inquiries on topics that are not biased toward human culture, preferably those that might hold some intellectual interest to adult beings."

Giotto resisted an urge to applaud, limiting himself instead to a small smile in response to Scotty's not-quite-covert 'thumbs up'.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Spock," Chip apologized smoothly. "I'll try to be more sensitive to your perspective. I certainly don't want to make you to feel left out."

"I am a Vulcan, Mr. Carleton," Spock explained as though lecturing a particularly dim cadet. "I assure you that you cannot make me 'feel' anything."

"Right. Sorry," Carleton looked back toward the door. "Oh, I see we're about land. I'll let you get settled into your rooms and we'll meet in the main building for orientation in a half hour."

Scotty rolled his eyes after Chip had left. "Where'd they find tha' git?"

Now that he'd gotten a close look at Carleton, Giotto had a pretty good idea of the answer to that question. He looked over at Spock. "Did you see the little logo on the side of his PADD?"

"Yes," Spock replied. "Gallax Group Services, a subsidiary, if I recall correctly, of the company owned by our recent offended passenger."

"That sonovabitch," McCoy growled. "I told you, you should have nerve pinched him."

"Huh," Kirk stroked his chin. "Well, we already knew this had more to do with penance than with improving our teamwork, but it seems like a lot of trouble just to screw Starfleet out of a workshop fee."

"I agree," Giotto said softly. "I'll admit to not caring for these programs, but given the make-up of our group a professional trainer would have done his homework on Vulcans."

"Ye think he's fakin' being a complete numptie?"

"I don't know Mr. Scott, but every one of these things I've ever been on has involved some level of psychological profiling and the inane questions are often the most insidious. Since we can't be sure of their motives, I suggest that we be very careful about what information we volunteer."

"Or what activities we do," McCoy added. "It'd be too damn easy to turn some of those challenge things into a convenient accident."

"Agreed. This might still just be payback for not kissing his ass, but based on the advice of my CMO and Security Chief, I'm hereby making a command decision not to cooperate," Kirk's lips spread in a slow devious grin. "Of course, we can't let them know we're on to them, but according to the complaint we're all borderline crazy and dysfunctional. I say we show them what that would really look like…"

.

"Okay," Carleton said clapping his hands together. "I know we didn't start out so well in the shuttle, but let's just put that in the 'outside' box and start over."

Scotty's hand went up. "Wait, aern't we supposed to be thinkin' ain the ootside box?"

"That's 'outside the box' Scotty," Kirk stage whispered, patting the engineer's knee. He winked at Carleton. "It's okay, he'll be fine once he sobers up."

"Pffft," Scotty snorted. "'Twelve pints isnae enuff tae get me pished so dinnae act it."

Carleton's smile wavered as he tried to parse that through the exaggerated brogue. "Anyway... let's go around the room with names. I'm Chip." He looked at Scotty and changed his mind. "What name do you go by Captain?"

"Oh I'm not formal. 'Lord and Master' will be fine by me." Kirk grinned. "Just kidding! Off duty I go by Jim, but it's a little ambiguous whether this is duty or not."

"Ach, Ah'll call ye Hamish then." Scotty patted his cheek drunkenly.

"Okay-ay," Chip scribbled a hasty note on his PADD. "What would you like us call you Mr. Giotto?"

"Mr. Giotto," Sam said flatly. "But I'll answer to 'sir'."

"Let's assume this is off duty. Surely you go by something less formal with your colleagues here?"

Sam scanned the room with narrowed eyes. "Am I on a first name basis with any of you lot?"

There were head shakes accompanied by mildly frightened expressions, except for Spock who nodded approvingly. "Mr. Giotto is a model of formality. I find it quite refreshing. If not for the tendency to occasionally pummel those who irritate him, he would make an excellent Vulcan."

"Thank you Mr. Spock. If I could persuade you to kill people occasionally, you'd make an excellent security officer." Giotto looked up, arching an eyebrow at Carleton. "You see, we all get along _just fine,_ so let's drop this nonsense." He started to stand.

"Oo, I'm sensing tension here," Carleton said in a kindergarten-teacher voice and put a hand on Sam's arm looking disturbingly like he might give him a hug.

Giotto yanked the hand off in a _kote gaeshi_ hold and forced Chip to his knees. God but he'd always wanted to do that to a touchy-feely trainer! It was an effort to keep a smile from marring the just-give-me-an-excuse-to-kill-you look he was aiming at Carleton.

"help," Chip squeaked, glancing around desperately.

The Captain got up, hands held up in a placating gesture. "It's okay Chief. He's not a threat. You can let him go now. Good. Good," Kirk spoke slowly and gently like he was talking down a jumper as Giotto released the wrist lock and backed off. "Now, just …go to your happy place, okay?"

Sam resisted rolling his eyes as he caught the amused twinkle in Kirk's. How long had he wanted an excuse to use that line?

Kirk drew Carleton a little off to the side, putting an arm around his shoulders conspiratorially. "Look, uh, just for future reference, don't touch Giotto. He doesn't like it. Spock doesn't either actually, but he'll only nerve pinch you."

Chip's eyes were wide. "How do you work with someone like that?"

"Hey, he just saw a little too much action in the Border Wars." Kirk shrugged and looked up to a corner of the room. "Of course, noticing that recording device in here kind of spiked his paranoia, but he _probably_ won't hurt you as long as you avoid his triggers."

"And those are?" Carleton asked nervously.

"Well," Kirk glanced around. "Being questioned in a confined space he's not allowed to leave, for one."

Carleton stepped away and clapped his hands. "Okay, people, you know what? The sun's shining and we could all use some fresh air, so let's move this outside."

.

An hour later, Giotto couldn't remember ever having enjoyed 'team building' so much. After finding the bugs in their rooms, they were pretty confident that this was a set up, but even if it was legit the excuse to not just stonewall, but gaslight this twerp was, to use corporate trainer-speak, wonderfully empowering.

"Do you know how many _germs_ that would involve?" McCoy snarled. "Suggest that again kid, and I'll shove that stylus up an orifice you don't even want to _imagine_ it in."

"Okay-ay," Chip scribbled another note on his PADD. "Let's try a different ice breaker. Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances?"

"Lite bier." Scotty mimed putting a finger down his throat.

"Here, here," McCoy reached across to give him a high five.

"I must concur," Spock put in. "The variety produced in central North America in particular is either vile or bears a distinct resemblance to copulating in a shallow draft river vessel."

It took a moment to translate that, then McCoy's eyes bugged out from trying to hold back a laugh and Sam bit his own cheeks attempting to stay in the character.

Kirk did laugh. "Hey, I like Bud Lite. But there is stuff I won't do." He flashed a cheeky grin. "Five women in one night my absolute limit. Any extra chicks that show up have to wait until after I've had breakfast." He pointed at McCoy. "And don't bring up those dancers. They don't count - two of them were hermaphrodites."

Chip gaped a moment before forcing himself to turn toward Giotto. Sam gave him his best imitation of the doctor's most malevolent glare. "Before you ask, the answer is hold back from beating you senseless if you ask me another stupid question."

"Well, look at the time," Chip tapped his PADD. "Why don't we all take an hour's break to unwind and enjoy scenery?"

.

Carleton activated the private comm in his office.

"You're checking in early," his supervisor said. "Have you figured out how to derail that command team already?"

"Derail them? I don't know how they've stayed on the tracks this long. The engineer's a lush, the doctor's a belligerent mass of phobias, I swear the Vulcan's bipolar and the Security Chief is a complete psycho!" Chip ran a hand through his hair. "The Captain's the only half-way normal one and he's a sexaholic playboy. We'd be doing the Federation a favor if I just cut the ropes when they go rappelling."

"We're not working for the Federation, Carleton, and don't you forget it. Just keep gathering data; at the worst it'll be worth something for blackmail."

"Yes, sir," Carleton signed out and buried his face in his hands.

Outside the office, Scotty gave a thumbs up to Spock who nodded from the edge of the roof to Giotto. He joined the Captain at the door. "We've piggy-backed on their signal. Adm. Pike should have our message and a copy of that exchange within the hour."

"Excellent, Chief. Would you like to make the arrest or shall I?"

"We should do it together, sir. This weekend is about teamwork after all."

"Okay," Kirk flashed a grin. "But you take point. I've got to see Chip's face when psycho-Chief breaks down his door."

"Yes, sir," Giotto grinned back. All things considered, they really were turning into a pretty good team.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I know some team building programs actually work, but esp. back when I worked in automotive I was exposed to some really bad ones. (Seriously, if you want techies to become a team, just give us an interesting project and an absence of pointy-haired interference. Do not, I repeat,_ not _, make us stand in a line at the front of the room and do the Macarena - the only bond that forms is due to the trainer becoming a common enemy)._
> 
>  _This volume is getting long, so I'm going to close it here. I do have more stories, so I'll probably start a Vol. III at some point.  
> _
> 
>  _Thanks to all of you who have been reading and especially those of you reviewing as well. Please continue.  
> _


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